Page 42

That rage propels me across the rooftops of Nock City.

I hunt on foot, from above. My trike’s conspicuous.

I don’t want anyone to hear or see me coming.

Whatever you might think about how conspicuous a two-meter, hundred-kilogram man dressed all in black running and jumping from roof to roof might be, you’d be wrong.

One of the first lessons I learned in SAWL: the sheep almost never look up.

When they do, you get the kind of rebellion I was sent in to crush on Trident and Phogath and Tje Dhos.

But on prosperous, relatively peaceful worlds like Kuseros, no one looks up.

And if they do, they figure they’ve seen a shadow, or an animal.

I admit I look more like a kemwar or an old Earth ape than I do a man as I run.

When I’ve got a clear, flat roof, I run upright.

But the rest of the time I’m bent over as I traverse angled roofs; cat-crawling along roof-ridges, jumping and rolling as I cross the gaps between buildings.

As I warm up and the muscle-memory of all those hours running with Creet, the Parkour master who trained my unit, comes back, I get more confident, flipping and leaping between rooftops instead of vaulting them.

The flow of the run, the immersion of myself into movement, stills the rage.

I don’t feel peaceful, not like when I’m with Kez.

But I feel focused. So focused, moving over, under, around the obstacles between here and there, that I pass Duncan without noticing.

It’s only when I get to his destination, a metal and glaz highrise shimmering with cloverleaf logos – some sort of do-gooder humanitarian agency that Kez takes the same confidential datastick-bundle from Nock’s four detox centers to twice a week – that I realize I’ve passed him.

I retrace my steps until I spot him, pick my ambush spot in an empty alley, and hang from some repair scaffolding sticking off the steeple of a Krister church as I watch him come toward me.

He doesn’t see me. Like the rest of the sheep, he doesn’t look up.

He’s a strong runner. Good, easy, ground-eating pace.

I wouldn’t want to try to take him in a real race. But this isn’t a race.

It’s not even a fair fight.

I drop off the scaffold and land on all fours. Straighten slowly and dust off my hands. Duncan continues half-a-dozen steps down the alley before he pulls up. “Huh-hey,” he says, transitioning from the rhythmic breathing of distance running to talking. “Is everything okay? Did Kez send you?”

Not exactly. “I’m gonna need that package.”

“Sure.” He looks puzzled but hands the wrapped bundle to me without hesitation. He’s got no reason to question my authority, or my motives.

I set it down on the ground, so it doesn’t get damaged, or bloody.

While he’s still wondering what’s going on, I launch into a one-handed flip.

Land behind him and to one side. I pull my kukri out of my boot, pivot to grab his left hand with mine and force his arm behind his back so I’ve got leverage.

Wrap my right arm across his throat. My kukri presses under his chin. Not cutting, not yet.

Duncan goes limp, which I don’t expect. I pull him back against my chest to retain my hold on him. Not the ideal position to cut his throat; I’m going to get wet .

“Do it, man,” he says.

“Why?” I growl.

“I told them you’d figure it out. I’ve been waiting for you to say something ... you didn’t even give a hint at breakfast.”

I have a decent poker face when I want to. And I wanted to catch him away from the Warren.

“Fuck,” he says, and it’s almost a whine. “What are you waiting for? Do it, man.”

“You want to die?”

He shakes his head. “It’s you or it’s them. You’ll just kill me.”

“Think so?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles humorlessly. “You’re not as bad a guy as you think you are, Snow. Only thing that’s kept me from topping myself to end this? Knowing you’d take care of her. No matter what I gave them, you’d protect her.”

Not quite believing either what I’m hearing or what I’m doing, I release his arm and move away from him, slipping my kukri back into my boot. I lean against the wall of the adjacent flash-shop and cross my arms over my chest. “How long’s it been going on?”

He slumps to a crouch. Hangs his head and doesn’t look at me. “What, getting paid to spy on Kez?”

“Yeah.”

He rubs a hand through his short, sweat-spiked hair. “Started with Mister Tyng. He’s the first one who found out about her. He paid me to keep tabs on Chi after she moved in with Ape. That’s where it started.”

“Not where it ended, though.”

He glances up at me. Blue eyes bloodshot. He looks back down at his feet. Picks at a peeling tread on his running ped. “Jaxon caught up with me just a couple of days after you killed Mister Tyng. Two, three days, something like that.”

“That was two weeks ago. What have you told him?”

“Anything he asked.” Duncan shrugs. “Her runs, mostly. When she’d be away from you. Some about the security on the house, but he said it was too tight.”

Too fucking right, it is. “Didn’t bother you, knowin’ what they were gonna do to her?”

He looks up. Glares at me. “Fuck you, man. It’s been killing me. Every time I look at her ... why are you even talking to me? It’s over. Do it, man. ‘Least she’ll be safe.”

“She, who?” He’s mentioned a woman twice now, but it was only the second time that I realized he wasn’t referring to Kez.

He pushes to his feet. Lifts his chin. “Here, do it.”

I keep my arms crossed over my chest. Watch him steadily.

He spins away from me, clutching at his hair with both hands. “What do you want from me? Just do it!”

“Tell me who she is.”

“My mother! She’s sick, okay? Leave her alone. I know you’re going to kill me but leave her alone.”

“What’s she got?”

“LTRE. They don’t even know exactly what. She’s third gen.”

Which means she had Duncan late in life and was unlucky. Most of the third generation after the dirty terraforming that made Kuseros livable just have chromosomal aberrations, not full-blown radiation sickness.

I sigh. Still not believing what I’m about to do.

“Plex Tyng Tower tomorrow. Ask for Myhre Hata. She’ll be expectin’ your call.

She’ll get your mother treatment. Real treatment.

” The kind only Tyng money can buy. I watch him struggle to process this.

“And Duncan? None of us ever see you again. Not a plex, not a friendly visit. Nothin’.

You’ve lost your North Shore privileges. ”

Duncan stares at me for several long moments. “You’re letting me go?”

He’s going to have to live with what he’s done every day for the rest of his life.

The betrayal of his friends. The loss of his family.

Duncan’s not a villain. He was just protecting the woman closest to him.

That’s a motive I understand completely, even if I can’t agree with his methods.

Leaving him alive, to live with the ramifications of what he’s done, that’s worse than anything I could do to him.

I pick up the package. I’ll deliver it, since I don’t want Kez to lose face with her client.

“Hey,” Duncan calls after me. “Snow, would you-would you tell them something for me? Would you tell them, Kez, tell her—” His voice hitches and I don’t look back. I’m not interested in watching him break. “Just tell her I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I will,” I say over my shoulder. “You tell Jaxon something for me. Tell him I’m coming.”

A little fear never hurts.

I tuck the package under my arm and swing up into the scaffolding. I don’t want the delivery to be late.