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  "What is the world coming to?" Stellar brayed to break the tension and then gulped down a large mouthful. Under the weight of her giggling inanities the moment passed.

  As I sliced the offending fish and brought it to my lips, Lang looked directly at me for the second time that evening.

  "Tedder lied about Stellar's food," he whispered. "My detector tells me that yours and hers are not the same batch as mine."

  The fork clattered from my hand.

  Sensing Jamon straining to catch our conversation, I forced myself to pick it up and smile back.

  As Jamon turned back to Mueno and Stellar, I dropped the sliced fish into the palm of my hand and stuffed it into a pocket to test later. From then on I pushed the food around the plate until Mikey came to clear the table.

  Stellar had cleaned her plate and was busy licking her lips like a cat. Not just a plastic bitch, a dead one! I couldn't even feel sorry for her. Just angry. And sick. Sick of being caught in their twisted games.

  When dessert came I declined it by claiming weight concerns. It was a bit lame considering it was genetically impossible for me to exceed a certain weight, but no one questioned my excuse.

  I owed Lang for his warning—one I shouldn't have needed. Under the distraction of Mikey clearing the dessert plates away I touched Lang's arm. "Thank you."

  He smiled his disconnected smile. "I need work done, privately. I'll contact you."

  Chapter Four

  I got back to my room a little before two a.m. Lang had excused himself and left around midnight—after some private talks with Jamon in his den—followed soon after by Tedder.

  Jamon must have been pleased with the evening because he already had Stellar half naked in front of Topaz Mueno while he said his goodbyes. (There was nothing Jamon enjoyed more than another man's envy. Pure gold!)

  With Topaz gone, he turned his attention to me, even though Stellar was in his lap.

  "Parrish, come here."

  Stellar pouted and stuck her tongue in the side of his mouth. "We don't need her."

  At that moment I would have killed rather than let either of them touch me.

  Fortunately for all of us, Stellar got her way.

  "I'll save you for the morning, Parrish. After all, you are better to look at in daylight than Stellar."

  The plastic bitch howled at his insult and lunged toward me, nails flexed like claws.

  Laughing, Jamon tripped her and she fell hard on to her stomach. He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked. As her howl of anger shifted to growls of pleasure, I escaped from Jamon's rooms, my breath tight and suffocating in my chest.

  When I closed my door to the world, I found Mei curled up on my bed top-to-toe with the redheaded Stolowski. They looked like two teens home from a bad taste party. Mei was cuddling into Stolowski's skinny leg, unconsciously rubbing two fingers along the texture of his moleskins and sucking her thumb. Stolowski was snoring.

  Dark sat in my only chair watching a news bulletin and studiously ignoring Merry 3# while she jigged and fluttered.

  "You all right?" he asked, glancing up at me, his broad, smooth face shining in the glow from the vid.

  He was attractive, in a natural sort of way. Not synthetically perfect like the genetically engineered. I could understand why he dressed the way he did. A guy had to have some defenses against the world.

  I must have still been rattled from my evening at Jamon's because I had a sudden urge to throw myself on to his lap and bury my head under his armpit.

  But in reality I'd given that up years ago. Especially with complete strangers.

  "Nothing I can't fix," I answered sharply.

  He shrugged, indifferent to my coldness, and his attention dropped back to the vid.

  I warmed up a pro-sub to make up for the dinner I'd just missed and hunted through the cupboards for my detector. I found it jammed between some out-of-date vitamin patches and a bottle of imported water. When I scanned Jamon's fish for mercury, it redlined.

  "How d-dare he!" I keened in rage, choking on my mouthful of pro-sub.

  Dark turned and stared, then started out of his chair toward me.

  I held out a hand to fend him off but he batted it away. With a quick movement he spun me around and slapped my back so hard I hit the floor. The pro-sub came loose in my throat and I coughed myself into the comma position.

  "You all right?" He leaned over.

  "Can't you th-think of something else to's-say? Or is that your complete r-repertoire?" I stuttered.

  As I wiped the tears from my eyes, a look akin to frustration creased his face.

  He grabbed my shoulders and hauled me upright into the chair.

  Me!

  I spat the remains of the pro-sub out and sprang away into a crouch.

  "Don't touch me!"

  A garrotting wire appeared in my hand like magic and I whipped it past his nose. I had the Glock copy in my coat pocket if I really needed to prove the point.

  To my amazement he began to laugh. A deep, gut-twisting paroxysm that doubled him up.

  My garrotting wire is not something that usually makes people laugh.

  "What's going on?" Mei sat up sleepily and scratched her head. "Oh, it's only you, Parrish. Keep it down, will you?"

  Then she stuck her thumb back in her mouth, rolled over and hung her dimply butt off the edge of the bed.

  Stolowski never stirred.

  Dark levered his bulk down onto the floor opposite the chair and motioned to me.

  "Sit down, Parrish," he said, the edge of laughter still in his voice. "Let's talk."

  I stepped over the remnants of the pro-sub, and thought, Yeah, it is time to talk. Only I stayed standing.

  "Your friend, Stolowski, has been set up to take a murder rap," I said.

  Dark nodded in agreement.

  "If he tells me everything he can about what happened, then I might be able to help. Or at least keep the heat off him for a while."

  "Why would you do that?"

  "I need information that he might have about the bike rider."

  Dark frowned, confused.

  "You heard of Jamon Mondo?" I tried.

  He nodded again.

  "I work for him. We all do." I waved my hands around to indicate Torley's.

  "You've been there tonight? With him?" he asked.

  It was my turn to nod. What a pair of conversationalists!

  Silence stretched the moment.

  I tried again. "Look, Razz Retribution is… was a big-time newshound. If your friend has been framed for her murder then he's in deep trouble. The word around is that it's a professional hit. I just want as much information on the biker as he can give. In return I'll keep him safe."

  "When you get your information, what happens then? Sell him to the nearest bounty hunter?"

  This time I was able to shake my head for variety.

  "Bounty don't pay subcontractors. It's not their style to share. If you and I make a deal, then I'll keep him safe until you can make other arrangements."

  The big man opened and closed his hands. "What arrangements?"

  "I don't know. Move intercity or something. Have a new face made. Use your imagination."

  All signs of humor had left his face. "That costs money, Parrish. Sto doesn't have any money."

  I could feel a headache building. "Can't you sell something? Everyone's got something to sell."

  "He's got some family, somewhere," he mumbled. "Maybe they could help."

  "Great. You find them and squeeze some money. I'll take care of him while you do. But remember, this is just breathing space. Not a permanent babysitting job. You've got a few days."

  "How do I know that the information you want isn't worth a lot more?"

  "There's the door. Take your chances out there. See how long your friend Sto lasts with bounty and Militia after him."

  As if on cue another news bulletin headlined on the vid, with a replay of Razz Retribution's assassination. You could see the freckle
s on Sto's pale face. Behind him the rider was hunched over the engine, head low, back to the camera.

  Dark sighed heavily, then stretched out full-length on my floor like an oversized leather couch. "All right, Parrish. I'll tell Sto. You got a deal. Make sure you take care of him."

  * * * *

  Sleeping on the floor in your own room, while two people you hardly know snuggle on your bed and a third snores loud enough to knock chinks out of the plasterboard, is not the way to get a good night's sleep.

  I woke early—had I actually slept?—feeling gritty, my heart pounding. I knew the bounty hunters wouldn't take long to link me with the disappearance of Stolowski. I had to get him to Plastique soon—away from Torley's—without anyone recognizing him.

  Doll would hide him and me while I convinced her to lend me credit to buy Easy-tell. Easy-tell forced a crude gate into the hidden pockets of a person's memory. Made 'em spew out minute detail—everything the senses unconsciously recorded. Occasionally it messed with the taker's recall. It only happened to a few. Mostly they just ended up with a day-long killer headache.

  My conscience kicked me—but I was desperate enough to risk it.

  Then there was the small matter of Jamon. If he made good on his threat of a morning interlude, then a 'goboy could be on my doorstep at any moment. I reckoned my room had outlived its usefulness as a refuge by about four hours.

  Four hours of desperately needed sleep.

  I roused Mei first.

  "Mei. Mei! Come on. Your bed pal has to go. Stuff is going to happen today."

  She wakened quickly, making me wonder if she'd been asleep. She pinched the skinny redhead's arm. "You're cute. Wanna go out sometime?"

  He screeched into wakefulness like a slapped baby.

  At the noise, Dark surfaced from his dreams, flailing his arms like an epileptic King Kong.

  Circus time and me the ringmaster!

  The sudden banging at my door worked better on everyone than a bucket of water.

  I knew right away the caller was no one I wanted to see and pointed to the ceiling.

  Dark understood straight away. Whatever persuasion he muttered in Sto's ear worked, and without too much drama Dark and I pushed Sto up through the manhole in the ceiling.

  The outside windows of my room had been permanently sealed off years before and the ceiling was the only other way out of the top floor. It led to one of the thousands of cut-throughs that interconnected nearly every villa—narrow, badly constructed passages through the rooftops of The Tert. There were problems with using that route but… one thing at a time!

  "Dark," I hissed, "strip."

  Mei started to peel off his jacket.

  "How will I find you?" He stared at me helplessly, like I was disappearing with his only friend in the world.

  As I levered up off the chair into the roof, I grabbed my spare comm spike from inside my suit and threw it to him. Don't ask me why I did it. The only other person who had one was my sister in the northern hemisphere. But a deal's a deal, and it was the only way to contact me when I was on the move.

  Below, Mei gave a raw little cat growl at the dimensions of Dark's naked chest. She rubbed herself against him. For some reason that really peeved me.

  "Use this spike in any link. I'll hear you." I tapped my cochlea implant. "And Dark…"

  His eyes hadn't left me. "Yes, Parrish?"

  "Move the damn chair!"

  * * * *

  Sto crawled clumsily along the rafters. Every meter I sweated over him falling through the ceiling. At least he hadn't had time to put on his R. M. boots.

  Small mercies!

  We spent the first ten minutes avoiding my own booby traps. If we could get out that way, then others could get in, so I had the ceiling wired. I usually didn't sleep at night until I'd checked all my security. Most of the money I earned went into keeping these little gizmos operating in my part of the inner roof. I disabled the heat sensor by remote until we'd passed, then reactivated it.

  Soon we were covered in grime, with lungs full of some pretty foul air. Sto started to make gagging sounds.

  "Get sick and I'll leave you here!" I threatened.

  The only noise I heard after that was gulping.

  Inside the villa rooftops was not the greatest place to visit. For a start, normal-sized humans couldn't stand upright—let alone big people like me; second, if you got lost and came out at the wrong place, you'd likely find yourself in a room full of infected junkies who'd strip you butt naked and sell your gear (Titanium-capped boots were worth a mint. So was natural body hair and real nipples.); third, and most importantly, it was canrat territory.

  "C-can we stop for a minute?"

  Sto sounded shaky, so I relented.

  With a jerky sigh he settled on a crossbeam and put his face in his hands. I switched off my miner's light and took some steadying breaths. The nifty light was part of my everyday traveling kit. It fitted across my forehead like a groovy headband. In The Tert you never knew when you might be in a dark place.

  "Dark said you would protect me till he could get some money to get us out of here," Sto said from between his fingers.

  "Dark? Yeah, well Dark's right, but you've got a part in the deal too."

  "What do you want to know? I don't remember too much."

  "How did it happen? I want to know every detail."

  His hands dropped away. His voice was tight with the effort of remembering.

  "I got a message to meet up with Dark at Con's pool bar. Thought I'd hike. Got picked up real easy, straight outside my squat. The biker never spoke or nothin'. I told him I wanted to meet a mate at Con's."

  "And?"

  "We got up close to this car on the Hi-way, a real beauty, expensive, with a babe driving it. He swung in real close and slapped a patch onto it. I recognized her. It was the news-grrl you see on all the TV shows. Razz. The beautiful one. I saw her face, then she… she… kaboom!"

  He made a noise like a kid playing with war toys.

  I'd begun to think he was a bat short in the attic when I smelled something that sent my adrenaline scooting. It prompted me to switch my light back on.

  "You ever seen a canrat?"

  He glanced about nervously. "You mean those dograt mutant things? They live on the roofs, don't they?"

  "Outside, inside, wherever the food is."

  "I heard they eat human flesh." His pale skin blanched as white as the static on a vid comm. His freckles stood out like a disease.

  "Yeah," I said cheerfully as I started crawling, "but they prefer redheads."

  Chapter Five

  The bags under Doll Feast's eyes quivered suspiciously. She'd been a handsome femme once, but the stress of defending her piece of the poison was beginning to show in the gravel in her voice and the sag of her skin.

  I knew that skin as well as my own.

  "What use is he to you?" She jerked her head toward Sto.

  He was yawning widely and watching porn vids in the back of her lab, his skinny, pale imperfections totally out of place among the benches of glossy, plastic half-faces and perfect bodyparts. After dragging his arse through a bunch of dirty Shadoville attics we'd ventured out and caught the Trans-train back to Plastique. I'd picked the newest carriage with the only functioning closed camera unit and hoped that'd keep the bounty hunters shy.

  "I think the Cabal Coomera set him up on a job. One of them picked him up on the back of his bike. They blew up the car. Now Militia is after Sto as the accomplice because they got a clear shot of his face on the Hi-way vidcams," I said.

  "Doesn't explain what you're doing with him."

  "I figure he must know something about the rider. Y'know… twitches, missing teeth, something, how he smelled. Under Easy-tell…"

  "E-tell! How you goin' to pay for that?"

  "Could you loan me, Doll?" I loathed asking. I never had before, not ever, but desperation changed things.

  She shook her head emphatically. "No. I want you to give
up this stupid dream, Parrish. The Cabal Coomera is a men-only club. Kadaitcha stuff. They don't want the likes of you. Even if you hunt one of them down they'll never let you in. They'll never give you sanctuary."

  "I've got to get away from Jamon, Doll. Can't you see that?" Anger rushed up the back of my neck. I added sullenly, "You're no help."

  Her face sagged with resignation. "Come on. You know how it is, Parrish. I don't want a war with Jamon. As soon as Tedder knew I had trouble with Jamon, he'd be round to ambush me in a second. I'd be out of business. Think about it. Then you'd have nowhere to come. As it stands, I can give you some protection. Accept your life and deal with it."

  I stared at her.

  "Come on, Parrish," she wheedled, "you know how I feel about you. Listen, I got some free time now. What say we go somewhere a bit more private?" She touched my face.

  I stepped back, suddenly sickened. In her own way she was just as manipulative as Jamon. I wanted rid of all of them. Her, Mondo, everyone who wanted a piece of me.

  I was drowning.

  "I need some time to think things over, Doll. Can you keep him safe for a couple of hours? You owe me that at least."

  She nodded slowly, unhappy at the knockback.

  "I'll keep him. But don't do anything stupid. You want one of my girls to watch your back?" Wariness creased her face.

  Maybe she thought she'd really pissed me off this time.

  She had.

  "I can look after myself."

  "Yeah, Parrish. Sure you can."

  * * * *

  Outside, Plastique's business hub revved on full throttle. I found a cafébar crammed between The Toxic Sushi and a room selling fake IDs, and ordered a whisky latte. As the waitress brought me my drink I pondered over the amazing things people had on their nails these days. She had two tiny lizards lassoed onto hers. They squirmed and wriggled as she scripted my bill. What happened when she washed the dishes and wiped her butt?

  "Cute, huh?" she drawled, admiring them.

  "Do you believe in reincarnation?" I asked sweetly.

  "What's that? Some type of devil worship?" Hope sparked in her eyes as she set the drink down.

  I trapped her hand flat with the weight of mine and nicked the lassoes with one of my lapel pins. One lizard scampered free, the other one moved the wrong way and I sliced its head off.