Forty-Six #3
Martim nods. “I can talk my way through a lot of things,” he says, then points at the screen with the security feeds. “But it’s going to be hard to get through that .”
Every live image from outside the building shows dense throngs of people.
At least some among the multitude are members of United Freelancers, safety in numbers giving them the fearlessness to parade angrily in front of Cityhab Security and armed contractors.
Large numbers, and the impassioned screeds and fanatical encouragement of their victim-hero survivor.
Waterboy is standing on top of a van—she recognizes him by his green field parka and hypermanic movements.
He’s swaying back and forth, face bright and exultant, arms raised.
Without sound, she can’t tell if he’s leading his rapt followers in song or chant, or if he’s dancing to music only he can hear.
Uchi’s supporters are arriving in force and clashing with the protestors.
Viewed from above, the mob undulates back and forth like the waving fronds of an alien plant, advancing and retreating as sides exchange insults and blows.
The thick security line in front of the building stands firmly braced as high-ranking directors and their staff start emerging from the front doors and departing in armored vehicles.
Tide Sullivan gets an especially impassioned round of jeers and cheers as he gets into a car with his atier and entourage and departs.
The people are holding back, though. Waiting for the star of the show.
Isako glances at Thea. The bodyguard’s expression is stony as she studies the feeds.
Any of the freels out there could be a potential assassin with a printed pistol and two rounds in the chamber.
It’s going to be challenging enough to get her client out of here safely.
Keeping “Uchi’s” exit unnoticed so that he can meet with Savannah Minto in secret is going to be even harder.
Kob takes charge as if he never left contract life. “We go with the decoy plan.”
He tosses a duffel bag on the table, unzips it, and starts pulling out clothes.
He and Martim start undressing down to their undergarments.
Sandbar Uchi and Rain Kob are about the same height and build, although Kob has about twenty kilos on Martim’s synthbody.
Close enough. With any luck, and a compression underlayer, the angry mob won’t get near enough to notice.
Martim turns to face the wall as he strips down and gets redressed.
It’s amusing that he’s modest about an artificial body that’s not even his own, but young people are self-conscious and old habits die hard.
In minutes, Kob is attired in Sandbar Uchi’s outfit—tailored charcoal suit and pinstripe vest, double-breasted true wool overcoat, lableather boots, felted fedora, and the final convincing touch: Uchi’s rare angora scarf.
Martim holds on to the expensive accessory for a reluctant moment before handing it over as if he’s handing over his firstborn.
“It’s a Moray Xi 459 series,” he explains, as if that means something. “Only a hundred of them were ever made.”
“I’ll give it back to you later.” Kob wraps the soft fabric around his neck so that it hides his beard and the bottom half of his face.
Martim is now garbed in nondescript trousers, a baggy sweatshirt over a plain button-up, and a black beanie over his silver hair.
He zips up a thermal jacket and pulls the hood over his head.
From his pinched expression of discomfort, you’d think he was naked.
Isako has to admit that the sight of Sandbar Uchi’s distinguished figure in layman’s clothes is pretty damn funny.
“I can’t meet with Director Minto like this,” Martim protests. He plucks at the collar of the shirt as if it itches. “I look like a goddamn detrit. I won’t be able to think straight.”
“It’s just for now,” Thea promises. “There’s a spare suit in the duffel bag.
You can change in the car once we get out of here.
” She stalks away to the corner of the room, tapping her earpiece and giving rapid instructions to Uchi’s security team.
Isako wonders whether the jarbrain bodyguard is having an easier or harder time managing her fake client compared with her real one.
Martim extends his hand to Kob. “Good luck, Strikebreaker. And… thank you.”
Kob clasps the younger atier’s hand. “Keep the luck for yourself, kid.”
Thea pulls a black hooded sweatshirt over her uniform and tucks her short hair under a cap.
She finishes speaking to the SoCon GasPro security crew outside.
“Move fast, and pull the car right up front. I don’t want anyone getting anywhere close.
” She waits for a response from the other end of the line, then speaks to the room. “Okay, they’re ready to go.”
“Kob.” Isako can’t shake the crawling premonition of disaster. “I don’t like this.”
She imagines Marsh Elias waiting patiently outside, settled into a sniper’s vantage place, his eye behind a rifle scope, the elegant executioner in his tailored suit jacket.
The Ronin Killer can place a headshot from three hundred meters; that’s what they say.
She recalls the synthtech doctor, Moth Lucan—she makes herself think of his name—and the way his head snapped violently to the side when the bullet exited his skull.
Kob pulls down Uchi’s scarf just enough so she can see his entire face. There’s no softness in his expression, only atier focus. “Hang on to this for me.” He hands her his Suzimachi 50 in its triggersheath. She takes it in both hands as if she’s accepting one of his organs for safekeeping.
He drops a hand onto her shoulder. “Fuck Earth, partner, let’s do this.” And then he’s through the doors and out the room. SoCon GasPro security gencons surround him, hurry him down the halls.
Thea shuts the door and bends close to the screen to follow their progress across the rotunda and out the front of the building.
Isako watches over the bodyguard’s shoulder.
The effect that Sandbar Uchi’s appearance causes is unmistakable.
She sees it in the surge and press of bodies on the screen, hears the mingled roar of jubilant and enraged noise that rises from outside and seems to pound against the walls of the Bridge.
She wants to keep watching. She’s desperate to see with her own eyes that Kob makes it into an armored car and safely away from here. But they don’t have time for that. He’s drawing everyone’s attention, so she can get the real imposter Uchi to safety.
Isako grabs the screen and closes it with a snap. Slings Kob’s longknife over her shoulder. Cautiously, she opens the door. The back corridor’s emptied out.
“Time to go, now ,” she orders, and shoves the two jarbrains into a run.