Jazz closed his eyes. “I don’t believe this shit.”

  “He traded intel with you to help forward other initiatives,” Cassidy continued. “He pulled strings at the bureau to keep you from being arrested, same as he did for Brie.”

  “You knew?” Jazz said, opening his eyes to glance at her.

  “I knew he was a Detective,” Brie replied. “Not a Shade. I can’t believe you’re saying they’re real. That you’re one of them. Except, I had a feeling something was off about you, Hall. I mean… what’s your name?”

  “Cassidy.”

  “Is that a first name or last name?”

  “It’s the only name I use. I don’t usually need it.”

  Brie smiled. “Right.” She looked at Jessica. “You knew?”

  Jessica nodded. “I left that part out before. I was one of Cassidy’s hosts when I was eleven years old.”

  “What? That is so amazing.”

  “It’s completely screwed up, is what it is,” Jazz said. “You’ve been using me for close to twenty years? Lying to me? I thought you were my friend.”

  “I’ve only been lying to you for about forty-eight hours, give or take,” Cassidy said. “Hall was doing his job to the best of his ability. That’s all. If it makes you feel any better, he does consider you a friend.”

  Jazz laughed. “Well, shit. Isn’t that great to know. At least he liked me while he was using me to rat out my colleagues. That makes me feel a shit ton better.”

  Cassidy understood the upset. He was thankful Jazz continued to stand in place, hands clenched into fists, face tight with anger. With the dealer’s mods, he could pummel Hall before Garrett had a chance to intervene.

  “Nobody ever knew he got his leads from you,” Cassidy said. “I know that doesn’t help much, but it doesn’t matter. You aren’t dealing with Hall right now. You’re dealing with me. Hall is a repository, a body for me to operate through. And right or wrong, he believed in what these two are doing. His son was killed because he used him to deliver a message to me. That’s why I’m here. Why I’m part of this. I’m not convinced this road leads anywhere, but I knew Hall before I shadowed him. He was the closest thing I had to a friend.”

  Jazz’s jaw clenched. He turned away, his eyes getting moist. He didn’t want anyone to see it. “Damn it, he was the closest thing I had to a friend too. But it was all bullshit.”

  “It was still an equitable arrangement,” Cassidy said. “Whether you knew the whole of it or not.”

  Jazz wiped at his eyes before turning around. “Yeah, maybe it was. I’m still sorry to hear about his kid. Damn, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Pretty cold to use him like that. Especially if this all turns out to be a wild goose chase.”

  “He’ll get his in the end. I’m rogue from the bureau, with no access to a transfer unit. I’m stuck in him for the duration, and my imprint will start to degrade after eight weeks or so.”

  “What happens then?” Shell asked.

  “Rapid onset dementia, followed by a painful death. And there’s no way around it.”

  “Oh my.”

  “This is important, Jazz,” Cassidy said. “And I still need your help.”

  Jazz unclenched his jaw and his fists, the anger subsiding. “What’s done is done. So long as I get the guns at the end, nothing’s really changed. I appreciate you being straight with me, Cassidy.”

  “Where we’re headed, it’s best not to keep secrets.”

  “There’s one more thing to come clean about,” Jessica said, all eyes turning to her. “Our objective isn’t to locate a computer terminal. It’s to find a Shade transfer unit inside the Golden Spire. We believe Praan uses it to interface with Unity and anyone else who may be involved.”

  “And you want Cassidy to do his own interface,” Brie said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Which means he has to make it to the objective alive,” Garrett said. “The rest of us are expendable.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Jazz said.

  “Does that mean Bizrathi Praan is a Shade?” Brie asked.

  “It’s possible,” Jessica replied. “It could also be that he’s been mastered and imprinted to his own body. Using himself as a repo.”

  “Won’t he degrade like Cassidy?” Shell asked.

  “Not if he re-imprints on a regular schedule. It can be done. I did it to Cass a few hours ago.”

  “You had a transfer unit?” Brie asked.

  “And lost it,” Jessica replied. “One of our members sold us out, and brought the UDF down on us around the same time they went into the Agora.”

  “What happened to the snitch?” Jazz asked.

  “I killed her,” Cassidy replied.

  “Good.”

  “Using Cassidy to infiltrate the spire would be ideal,” Jessica admitted. “But like he said, it’s also impossible right now. The only way we get a unit is to either get into the bureau headquarters or into the Golden Spire.”

  “Then I guess we need to reach the objective,” Jazz said. “I don’t suppose you have a schematic?”

  Jessica smiled. “Actually, I do.”

  Chapter 43

  Cassidy turned off the shower, letting the water drip from Hall’s body for nearly half a minute before he grabbed the nearby towel and wrapped it around his waist. The effects of the stim cocktail had fully worn off in the hours he had spent planning the invasion of the Golden Spire with the others, leaving him hobbled and in pain as he stepped out of the shower and onto the cracked bathroom tile. Like Jazz warned, he had overexerted Hall’s damaged knees during the escape from the warehouse, leaving them in worse shape than when he had started. Worse, he was stuck with a barely controllable craving to chug the Jarhead Piss or jab himself with the concentrate. He had to force himself not to think about the foul tasting liquid, or the even more convenient and potent stab, something that seemed more difficult to do.

  There was no value to taking the cocktail now. It might satisfy his growing addiction and ease the pain in his legs, but he would be limiting its usefulness later, when he really needed it, at the same time he wreaked more havoc on Hall’s body. Maybe it didn’t matter because they were dead men walking anyway, but it felt wrong to intentionally cause more harm.

  Besides, resisting the desire to take more of the cocktail helped strengthen his resolve across the board. So did dealing with the pain of walking.

  He had left his clothes in a heap on the floor knowing he would have to bend to scoop them up later. Hoping the hot water would help loosen the stiffness in his knees, he found that while it had improved the flexibility a small amount, it wasn’t nearly enough to crouch and grab his pants.

  “Figures,” he muttered, holding onto the edge of the sink for balance while he tipped forward on one leg. He managed to grab his underwear and pants on the first try, turning toward the cracked mirror over the sink, eyes locking on Hall’s reflection.

  Cassidy knew he should look away but he didn’t. The face was familiar to him because he had seen it from the outside. Time had increased the wrinkles, added more definition to his cheekbones, pushed back the hairline and put more salt in the dark strands. He looked tired and stressed, and the pain was evident in the tension across his brow even though he did his best to resist it.

  He stared longer than he ever had before. Maybe it was because he knew his original body was gone. Maybe it was because he understood this face would be the last one he would ever wear, ostensibly making it his own. Maybe he just wanted a moment to connect with himself. To see himself as what he was now. He had spent forty-eight missions ignoring the toll the job was taking on his psyche. He had managed to avoid confrontation with it for so long.

  In that moment, he wondered how he would describe himself. Without a body of his own, was he still human? Still alive? Inside this repo with no chance of escape, did that make him Hall? Philosophical considerations aside, perhaps. He would take time later to think existentially about it all. For now, he had to do his job. And so did Hall.

  He smirked into the mirror, creating new wrinkles across Hall’s face. “Just you and me, Jeff,” he said, backing up a step to get a better look at his knees. Swollen and bruised. He would ask Jazz for some ice.

  He looked away from the mirror before dropping the towel and putting on his underwear and pants. He had just buttoned the slacks when someone knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?” Cassidy asked.

  “Hey Cass, it’s Jess. Are you almost done in there?”

  Jazz only had one bathroom in his apartment, which occupied a thousand square feet in the back of the ground floor. It was a lot of space for one man, but a tight fit for the six of them.

  “You can come in,” Cassidy said.

  She pushed the door open, a bundled towel in her arms, smiling when she saw him. “How are your knees?” she asked.

  “I’ll live,” he replied. “You’re finished with Brie?”

  “Yeah. It didn’t take long. She’s smarter than I am and better with network code. I just needed to show her where to go and what to look for.”

  “You feel confident we can bring down Praan’s security?”

  “Very. I think that’ll be the easy part.”

  “Good.” Cassidy looked down at his shirt, which Jessica had unknowingly stepped on. “Would you mind getting that for me?”

  She looked down, and then jumped off the shirt. “Sorry. I didn’t see it there.” She picked it up and handed it to him. “You really aren’t convinced we’re doing the right thing, are you?”

  He shrugged. “Three days ago I came out of the deep freeze to find out my body no longer existed and that twenty years had passed since I was in your body.” He pointed at her. “You’re trying to change my entire worldview in a few hours. That’s a pretty tall order.”

  “I hear you,” she replied. “I’m sorry we had to do it this way, but we didn’t have a lot of options.”

  “You keep talking about the resistance. Why haven’t you brought them into this? Why are you and Garrett the only two here?”

  “It’s too dangerous for them,” she replied. “And there are so few of us left. The Initiative has been more than capable of suppression. In part because of you. I only learned later how what went down at the Hell Motel set the program back by years.”

  “Making guns,” Cassidy said. “But what was the endgame in that? To storm Praan’s Spire like we’re planning to do?”

  “That’s not the endgame. That’s the opening salvo.”

  “Then how does it end?”

  “With the truth, whatever that truth may be.”

  “What if the truth is worse than the lie?”

  “At least it’ll be the truth. You don’t think that’s important?”

  “Dorne told me my body was incinerated right after I was mastered, instead of being placed in the Freezer. I prefer knowing that truth. So yeah, I guess I do agree it’s important.” He finished dressing, his eyes landing on Jessica’s. “If anything I did when I was shadowing you hurt, I’m sorry.”

  She smiled back at him. “You mean my feet?”

  “For one. And the other things you experienced because of what I had to do.”

  “You didn’t hurt me. You helped make me stronger. You helped set me free.”

  “It’s good to hear.”

  Jessica took his hand in hers. “I won’t pretend to know what you’re thinking right now. Or how all of this is affecting you. But I want you to know that I’m here. Whatever that means to you. Whatever you need.”

  Cassidy stared back at her. He had no idea what he wanted or needed. He reached out and put his free hand on her face. She melted into it, closing her eyes. He could have kissed her if he wanted. He probably could have done a lot more.

  That wasn’t what he needed. Or wanted for her.

  He took his hand away, separating himself from her and limping to the door. He could feel her eyes on his back, a tense confusion hanging between them. She had said she felt a connection to him. He couldn’t deny he felt it too. But it was like a fractal. A lingering fragment of their shared experience, not a real attraction.

  And he refused to let himself get close. Not when he was a dead man walking.

  And not when he might still need to bring both her and Garrett in.

  Chapter 44

  The door to Jazz’s apartment swung open. He walked in, a small floating cart trailing behind him, loaded down with a pair of crates.

  Cassidy looked up from his position on the couch next to Brie, his eyes drifting from Jazz to the boxes. “Is that everything?” he asked.

  “It’s my end of everything,” Jazz replied. He closed the door once the cart was through and then banged his hand on each box in turn. “Uniforms. And guns. Lots of guns.”

  “We already have guns,” Jessica said.

  “You can never have too many guns.”

  “I hate guns,” Brie said.

  “I don’t really like guns either. But they come in handy when people are trying to kill you.”

  “Let’s see what you’ve got,” Jessica said. She stood and walked over to the cart, glancing at Cassidy as she passed the couch. They hadn’t spoken since the bathroom. He had made things a little awkward, which he regretted now. Everything had been so cut and dried before. Transfer, run the mission, head home, go back into the Freezer.

  Cassidy stood too, joining her beside Jazz.

  “Did you take care of the technical end?” Jazz asked Brie.

  “Yup. It seems there’s a problem with the Golden Spire’s power generator and one of Praan’s people scheduled a team to come take a look at it. It’s right there on the repair company’s calendar.”

  Jazz smiled. “Yeah, I mean, nobody in the building’s noticed a problem with the power supply, but it’s probably best to go in and take a look, just to be on the safe side.” He looked at Cassidy. “That was good thinking.”

  “There’s more than one way to nonviolently infiltrate a target,” Cassidy replied.

  “I think I’ve seen this movie before,” Shell said.

  “It’s cliche because it works. Praan has so many people working for him, they won’t know who scheduled what.”

  “Especially when we can add our presence to their schedule once we get close enough,” Jessica added. “But that’ll only get us inside. We’ll need to get from the basement up to the top of the spire. Fifteen thousand feet up.”

  “Just a short elevator ride away,” Jessica said. “As long as Brie keeps the security system locked out, we shouldn’t have a problem.”

  “You won’t have a problem,” Brie said. “Not unless the UDF spots us on the rooftop.”

  “That’s what this box is for,” Jazz said, smacking the second one with an open palm. “The uniforms are too fitted to allow for anything bigger than a handgun in a shoulder holster. We can carry one toolbag that's big enough for a couple of rifles and a few mags, but that’s about it.” He looked over at Garrett. “But you two brought your own toys.”

  “If you have something better, we’ll take it,” Garrett said.

  “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the standard-issue for this,” Jazz said. “Especially considering your Sliver integration with the targeting system. No, bring your gear.” He unlatched the crate and swung it open, revealing a few guns packed inside between bits of dark foam. He lifted out a magazine-fed double-barreled shotgun. “This one is mine.”

  “I like your style, Jazz,” Garrett said.

  “Thank you,” Jazz replied. “Cass, you already have an NG. I’ve got a second one here if you’d like a set.”

  “I’d rather keep one hand free,” Cassidy said. “Two-handed posture helps my aim and Hall doesn’t have a Sliver.”

  “Fair enough. Any other takers?”

  “I’ll carry it,” Jessica said.

  “Sold to the crazy woman,” Jazz said, passing the weapon to her. “Only one magazine, since it carries more rounds than anyone ought to need.” He looked at Garrett again. “What about you, big guy?”

  “I’m good with my TAC-15.”

  “A common but effective choice in pistols. I commend you, sir.”

  “What do you have for us?” Shell asked, motioning to Brie.

  “I’m glad you asked,” Jazz replied. He lifted out the top level of foam, revealing more guns beneath. He picked out a squared off carbine and held it out to Shell as though it were a king’s sceptre. “My pride and joy,” he said. “And I’m giving it to you.”

  “This is a tranq gun?” Shell asked, looking down at the gun.

  “I designed it myself. It fires small shells that deliver a tranq gel buckshot payload. A few seconds on the skin and it’ll drop any typical human, and the buckshot gives you both an increased chance of hitting flesh and better odds of dropping more than one target at a time.”

  “What if multiple buckshot hits their skin? I told you, I don’t want to kill anyone.”

  “And I don’t want to die in the spire because you’re trying to be nice,” Jazz replied. “It’s a risk. But so is the fact that they may come for you fully armored, in which case you won’t have any flesh to hit and we’re all screwed.” He pushed the gun toward her. She took it reluctantly, and he reached into the crate and removed another handgun, holding it out to her. “Just in case you change your mind.”

  “I won’t,” Shell said.

  He urged it on her. “Just in case.”

  She reluctantly took the handgun too.

  Jazz turned to Brie, but she waved him off. “I hate guns. Keep me out of it.”

  He looked at Cassidy. “I don’t like that our support team doesn’t want to defend themselves.”

  “As long as they stay out of sight, it shouldn’t be a problem,” Cassidy said.

  “It’s my funeral, too.”

  “I can make a call,” Brie said. “Bring Kyra and Ju into this.”

  “Who?” Jessica asked.