“You what now?”

  “I feel it. The stones beneath us cry out.” Zach strode past Mike.

  “Back inside.” Mike signaled Dee and Harry over the link. “Zach’s saying weird kid-wizard things.”

  “Kid-wizard things?” Dee passed him, her cloak moving like a deep-sea wave through overtime.

  Harry clanked forward. “I’m not going to fit.”

  “You’ll fit fine.” Mike linked the big sliding panel next to the human-sized door. It grumbled open. “Get inside.”

  “And,” Harry held up a hand as more people hit his chassis, dropping like clubbed seals, “once we’re there, there will still be hundreds of others trying to get in.”

  “I’ve got it.” Zach sounded annoyed, fitting right into his teenager-going-on-forty routine. He waited, watching through the now wide-open door.

  Harry walked toward them. As he got to the stone walls made of asphalt a slab of rock slid sideways, letting him through. He crouched low, sidling into Afterlife. Dee followed, leaving Mike on the street.

  He gave a last look around. The crowd clawed at the stone walls Zach made. Mike backed into Afterlife, linking the sliding panel to close. The stone following him. It piled against the doorway, the light falling back, the noise dropping away. Slabs of street rubble piled high, closing off the world. Mike touched a piece of asphalt. “I guess that’s one way of doing it.”

  His lattice bunched, angry with so much overtime. He dropped the speed enhancement, spitting the taste of durian. Mike took in the empty bar. “Where’s Sadie?” His words dropped in the real like clumsy musical notes made with a kazoo.

  Zach closed his eyes. “We must hurry.” He set off at a jog.

  “I guess I’ll just wait here,” offered Harry.

  “You do that.” Mike gave the total conversion a nod, following Zach. Dee fell in beside him like the years didn’t matter.

  The sound of gunfire pushed Mike into a run. He sprinted past Zach. Kid-wizard shit or no, Mike’s bionics still made him a faster runner. Dee kept pace. The shots sounded like small arms fire. Single rounds, not fully automatic. One person here carried a weapon like that.

  Sadie Freeman.

  Mike made the server room at a flat run. His link requested the door open before he arrived, hissing sideways as he reached it. Inside, a pit yawned in the floor, the old couch at a crazy angle, leaning into the dark. Sadie crouched behind a server rack. Mike’s heart hammered. Where is Sam? He spied her, face down on the ground, rifle beside her.

  Mike felt rage hit, white-hot and pure, brighter than any slice of sunlight Apsel could chain. He jumped into the pit, weapon out.

  Overtime came to him, sluggish, tail between its legs like a scolded dog. He snarled. He caught Sadie’s look of surprise as he dropped into the earth. Below, four men in power armor lurked. He shot three of them while falling, landing beside the fourth. He was in a tunnel that might have been a sewage main. Dark and smoky, a black tube running further than he could see. The fallen soldiers’ armor carried no lamps or insignia.

  He should keep one alive. They could question them, right?

  Sam.

  Mike slapped his enemy’s rifle aside. He ground his feet into the hard concrete floor, slamming his fist forward. Metatech bionics drove his arm like a piston. His fist hammered armored breastplate, cracking it.

  You should leave one alive.

  But, Sam.

  He punched again, the man stumbling back, armor splintering. It was cheap material, the kind of thing governments could afford. Ceramics and polymers, poorly bonded. Mike yelled, hitting the armor again. His fist passed through, pulping the man’s chest.

  He dropped with a gurgle.

  A burst of static accompanied Dee’s link chatter. “You’ll never catch them.”

  Mike waited below, listening. He caught footsteps ahead. He ran into the dark.

  Chapter Eight

  Heimo Bonafont ran. As a kid, he’d always been heavy. Glands, the doctors said. They were well-paid medical elite, arriving at the family mansion like hungry crows. They said whatever his parents wanted to hear and ignored Heimo’s love of cake.

  Most of the time, his weight wasn’t a problem. Machines did the heavy lifting these days, and with enough money you could get anyone to love you. Even Miss Washington.

  It was a fucking problem now.

  Soldiers half-carried Heimo along the tunnel. One on each arm, three ahead and three behind. When he’d worked a deal with HumanE, he’d imagined a daring rescue. He’d seen after-mission reports while at Apsel. All the top exec had. Heimo’s imagination suggested sleek military craft, stern soldiers helping him to safety. He hadn’t considered a trek through tunnels lined with piss and shit.

  It’d be worth it. Soon he’d see his wife again and be done with this madness. HumanE promised him stock and a seat at the table. At least his rescuers gave him a small light. It struggled to push light into the tunnel, partly succeeding, but also leaving skeletal shadows that loped along with them.

  The case slapped against his thigh. Of all the parts of the escape, it’d been the hardest. Heimo made it out of server panels, carefully cutting steel with the tools his jailers brought him. A piece here, a piece there. Enough to build a much smaller prison, fit for just one thing.

  CARTR.

  It was the price of his freedom. Bring HumanE CARTR, prove it worked, and he’d be back in clover. His lips quivered at the thought.

  Discovery was always a concern. They had people watch him all the time. Sam was good, but the Metatech handler was from acquisitions, not spec-ops. Rising through Apsel’s ranks kept Heimo a little sharper than most. Ready to lie, cheat, and steal.

  It was just business.

  He slipped on muck, going down to one knee. Heimo cried out, struggling to stand. His escort helped him rise, then froze. The one on his left looked back the way they’d come. Heimo licked nervous lips. “Trouble?”

  The man looked down on Heimo like he was made of the same muck lining the tunnel before glancing to his partner. “Get him out.”

  “Copy.” Heimo was dragged to his feet. The man on his right sported bionics strong enough to make the task trivial.

  Maybe when you’re out of here, you can get a little work done. It’d be nice to have more than link architecture. Extra muscle to stop thugs from dragging him into the night again. They’d knocked out his wife.

  Heimo clutched the case to his chest. It slapped against his belly as he jogged. He wanted to stop, to rest, but something spooked his escort. Heimo noted there was only one left. He wondered for a moment where the others went. Heimo hadn’t even noticed them leaving.

  Were they running away?

  “I’ve got to stop.” Heimo tried to haul short, gasping.

  The grip on his arm didn’t let up. “We don’t have time, sir.” The sound of gunfire roared from the dark behind them. Heimo struggled on. His guard glanced back. “We’ve lost Domedel.”

  “Friend of yours?”

  “No.” They pressed on. Heimo’s light wobbled, the shadows dancing a jog. More gunfire. “That’s Hawkes.”

  “Not a friend?”

  “Best man at my wedding.”

  Ahead, Heimo caught light, a lance of white. His guard kept the pace up, Heimo’s heart thudding. He could hear blood surge in his ears, roaring like waves on the beach. He would die before they made it out of these tunnels. He knew it. “I’ve got to rest.”

  “You wanna join Grieves?”

  “Who’s Grieves?”

  “She just died.”

  “I didn’t hear gunfire.” Heimo babbled, very little crossing his mind that made sense. He figured if this didn’t work out, they’d drag him back to Afterlife. He hadn’t factored on them going crazy and executing everyone. He would be next.

  “Fucking Takahashi.” The guard peered back, Heimo gasping lungfuls of air while he could, ignoring the stench. “I know that motherfucker.” The way he said it implied a promise, a missed opportunity, and a future appointment all in one. He dragged Heimo toward the light.

  As they approached, Heimo made out a woman framed by luminance from a manhole above. Red hair, a huge rifle held easy as you please, wearing a smile that wasn’t at all nice. “Heimo Bonafont.”

  “Hi.” Heimo stalled. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Ruby Page. I’m here to save your worthless ass.” She turned to Heimo’s guard. “Get him out.”

  “Out?” Heimo looked around. The tunnel was black, a tube leading away.

  Ruby didn’t answer, turning her head and closing her eyes. A roar of light and fire left Heimo dazed, blinking stars from his eyes. He couldn’t hear. The ceiling fell in, stone cascading into the tunnel.

  The guard clambered up, hauling Heimo with fingers tight as industrial clamps. Heimo scrabbled for purchase on the rubble. Light waited above, a steady rain falling. He clambered out, rolling over and lying, chest heaving, on the street.

  “Get up, sir.” The guard hauled Heimo to his feet. He saw an aircraft, very much like what his imagination promised. It sported guns, VTOL fans, and a sleek darkened canopy. A wide side door waited.

  Heimo huffed inside, throwing his bulk onto a bench. The metal creaked beneath him. Ruby Page slung herself inside, holding onto the door. The aircraft rose, Heimo’s belly left on the deck.

  Ruby didn’t seem to notice, not budging a millimeter as she looked at the ground. Her rifle barked, a steady hammer of noise, casings spilling from the side. It fired on, and on, an endless rage pouring below. The air car passed a building, cutting whatever she was firing at from view.

  Ruby slid the door closed, cutting off the savage noise of the aircraft’s fans, slouching to the bench opposite Heimo. She dropped her rifle to the floor between them. Heimo saw the tip glowed a sullen red. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m—”

  “I don’t give a shit,” she said. “The boss wants you, and the boss gets what he wants.”

  Heimo blinked. In a matter of hours, he’d be within the HumanE executive team. He could have this worthless grunt fired. Still, she’d saved his life, and extracted him from a bar named after the place people went when they died. Maybe it was the adrenaline that made her talk that way. “I’m Heimo.”

  “I know who you are. I know what you are.” She leaned back. “Fucking Takahashi.”

  “Your man said that.”

  “Which man?” Ruby looked around. “You see any men here?”

  “Uh.”

  “Expendable assets.” She nodded. “Just business.”

  Heimo thought about a woman who’d leave her team on the street, or dead in the tunnels below it. She might have thought them capable of taking Takahashi in the open. Heimo didn’t know. He knew Mike left Metatech, and the man seemed only good for holding a broom since then. Could he be that fearsome?

  He looked at a woman who fired a rifle from the window of their vehicle as if pouring all her hate on a single human on the dirt. A woman who’d prefer to do that than use the guns on the aircraft.

  He kept his words to himself as the air car roared over Seattle, nosing into the clouds.

  Human Energetics’ tower rose like the hand of a titan, breaking the clouds apart, reaching for the moon. Heimo pressed his face to the aircraft’s armored glass, eager to see his new home. He’d be at the top again, no mistake. With CARTR and HumanE’s other investments, the syndicate would make more money than any organization in the history of humankind.

  Ainley promised him five percent. It was a staggering amount of stock.

  Rain slicked the glass of the gunship, but no lightning welcomed Heimo home. He took it as a good omen, despite the silent smirk Ruby Page directed in his direction for the short trip. Heimo clutched the case to his chest. It was his bargaining chip. A one-time use passkey to the executive suite.

  The aircraft settled toward the tower’s roof, air turning the blasted water into droplets too fine to see. Skids on the deck, Ruby paused with her hand on the door. “Last chance.”

  “What do you mean?” She eyed him, and he was sure she did the usual scans. Checking him for pulse rate, and whether he was nervous, and how likely it was Heimo would panic, running for cover. He knew his heart was elevated, thundering in his ears like a drum solo. But he was in good spirits. He knew the difference between nervous excitement and nervous fear, years of boardroom jousting backing his play. Heimo knew this music.

  “Suit yourself.” Ruby hauled the door open, sound riding a squall of water inside. Heimo squinted, holding an arm up to cover his eyes. The aircraft’s fans wound down, a whine settling to a rumble in the belly of the beast. Ruby hopped out, the massive rifle slung across her back.

  Heimo watched her for a moment. She moved like the distillation of all the world’s athletes, shoulders back, head high, a spring in her step. Top-shelf bionics. Nothing Reed had worked that way. Metatech. Austin’s recruiting top-shelf from the best of the best. Heimo smiled. He was in the same company. Recruited from Apsel, top of his field, destined to share the world with a small number of elite rulers. He clutched the case containing CARTR close, almost slipping in his hurry to exit the aircraft.

  Ruby’s pace said the woman carried a storm inside her greater than anything nature could throw down. Rain slicked her red hair, her eyes glinting in the landing pad’s lights. She waited at a set of auto doors leading inside, warm and welcoming light showing the way. Heimo joined her inside, wiped his face, and couldn’t help but grin. “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “The rescue.” He shrugged. “For getting me away from those murderous thugs.”

  Ruby gave him another appraising look, and for some reason Heimo thought she found him wanting. A subtle shift in the tilt of her chin. The way her eyes narrowed a millimeter. “They weren’t that murderous. Only one of ‘em is worth a damn.”

  “Mike?”

  She nodded. “That Takahashi motherfucker.” Ruby leaned on the last word, hoping it’d support her weight. “There’ll be another time.” She turned from Heimo, palming the inner door controls.

  They opened with machined perfection, a clean, white corridor stretching in front of them. Guards waited inside, armored forms silent. Visors covered their eyes. For all Heimo knew, they didn’t blink. As he walked past, he thought a few were out of shape. Stomachs pushing the seams of armor apart. “I guess you can’t recruit top-shelf all the time.”

  “Hmm?” Ruby turned to him.

  “The guards.” Heimo patted his own belly for emphasis. “A few look like they need a trip to a clinic.”

  “We’re constantly onboarding.” Ruby offered him a plastic smile, fresh from a box of behavior upgrades. He knew exactly how those mods worked. Heimo had his link upgraded with a few so he wouldn’t give anything away in negotiations. “It’s hard to have the top one percent when they keep dying.”

  “What?” Heimo wanted to quiz her further, but a door slid open, white light brighter than the corridor’s pooling around the feet of the man waiting for them.

  “Heimo Bonafont.” Austin Ainley offered Heimo a smile and his outstretched hand. Perfect teeth, not quite smiling above a twenty-grand suit. Light stubble, designer-grade, below eyes that missed nothing.

  Heimo shook. “A real pleasure, Austin.” Best to use first names. Set the stage as partners, if not equals. He patted his case. “I’m ready to get to work.”

  “We’re ready, too.” Austin’s tone was practiced, rehearsed, but not a behavior mod. Like the man thought it was important to put in the work. No real trust there, but Heimo knew that would come with time. Ainley’s eyes moved to Ruby. “Any complications?”

  “Not a one.” She stepped past Austin, rifle slapping her back as she walked.

  “Aside from losing the team.” Heimo tried for a smile, wanting to match the bravado and we-know-what-we’re-doing of the other two. “Right?”

  “No.” Ruby didn’t turn, making a beeline for a table against a wall. It held drinks, a coffee machine, and a few snacks.

  Heimo’s stomach reminded him it’d been a busy day. Austin stepped aside, waving Heimo in. “You must be hungry. Thirsty.”

  “Been a rough trip,” admitted Heimo. He maneuvered his bulk toward the refreshments table. The room held another small table with a few decks, and nobody else. Perfect. His meeting with the company head should be personal.

  “How long until the CARTR unit is ready?” Austin said it like Carter, the way the reprobates at Afterlife spoke of the machine. He clasped his hands in front of him.

  Heimo paused mid-reach for a danish. “Anytime. I promised you good code, and I deliver. Once we get the data scaffold setup, we’re good to go.”

  “Excellent. The scaffold is ready, assuming your specifications are correct.” Austin threw an unreadable look at Ruby, who looked momentarily pissed off before leaving through another door.

  Just the two of them now. Heimo smiled. “I think we’re going to do amazing things here at Human Energetics.”

  “The company prefers HumanE in internal comms.” Austin smiled, taking the sting out.

  “Of course. There’s a few things I’ll need to wrap my head around. Do you have a desk where I can work?”

  “We had you a few levels down on one fifty-three, but there’s been a small malfunction.” Austin smoothed his jacket. It crisped like rare silk but shimmered like something synthetic. “We’ve got a temporary station near the scaffold.”

  “Basement?”

  “No. Insurgents compromised the basement recently.” Austin sighed, the sound of a man besieged. “When you’ve got things of value, everyone wants a piece.”

  Heimo laughed. He liked how Austin was just talking, not the practiced bullshit of Gairovald. Heimo would fit in here just fine. “You’re not wrong. Nothing I need to worry about?”

  “Not in the least. We’ve stepped up our security personnel drive. Four hundred new enforcers joined the team today.”

  “Four hundred? How do you onboard them so fast?”