SHAMAN
(unfinished)
by Dru Pagliassotti

Logon:  Shaman 

I glanced over my shoulder.  Jade was restive, winding the sheets around his body like a funeral wrap as he tossed and turned on the battered mattress.  Although the old radiant heater I had plugged into a corner did little to warm the freezing apartment, sweat sheened his face and chest.  He'd wake up soon, probably shouting.  His nightmares were always worse after he'd had to kill someone.  For all he was the chancer, I seem to accept murder more readily than he.  I'm not sure what that says about either of us.  But he had killed to help me, and I pitied him.

Password?

Behind me, he whimpered.  I half-turned, the portable on my crossed legs teetering, and laid fingers on his shoulder.  He quieted, curling in his cocoon of sheets.

Mirable visu

The screen blanked.  I pulled the light plastic mirrorshades from my jacket pocket, plugged them in and slid them on.  Virtual light displays flashed before my eyes, a bright overlay over the shadowed reality around me.  I picked up one of the picks that gleamed dully on the floor around me and plugged it in.  Number twenty of the picks from Rattler's files.  Some of them had been informative, but none of them had been what I was looking for.

A scene sketched in, videographed animation.  I watched briefly, then canceled and checked the directory.  The rest was more of the same; not even good quality.  Must have been bootlegged.  Interactive soft porn games, and not the kind that interested me, either.  I ejected the pick, tossed it in the "useless" pile, and tried another.

The display flashed an incoming call while the new directory scrolled by.  I looked around for the earphones, keyed in the call for text.  They were half-hidden under the dirty laundry; I fished them out and plugged them in.

Helow shamun this iz snayk.

I stood, picking up my portable and walking to the kitchenette.  The cursor blinked before me as the caller awaited a response.

I sat on the cracked linoleum floor and keyed back to audio, slipping the earphones on.

"This is Shaman," I said softly, not wanting to awaken Jade.  I slid Rattler's pick out and fumbled through my jacket for one of my own.  Opened the buffer.

"Yeah, I could tell by the carrier.  Only you'd answer the phone with your fucking computer," Snake replied, knocking the receiver against something hard to emphasize his point.

"That is no way to treat expensive equipment."

"'S'okay, I'm calling from a payphone.  Fuck the corporate phone pigs. Listen, you had some feelers out about the operation underground, right?  Seems they moved this Aspirant guy to some hitech reconstruction ward in L.A."

I slid in the disk and tapped record.

"Tell me."

"Okay.  His real name's Eric E-R-I-C- Ceraphian C-E-R-A-P-H-I-A-N, and he's working for Optek International.  I've got a program running down his refs, but right now all I know is that he's been checked into a private room in the Cedars-Sinai reconstruction wing in L.A.  No calls, no visitors, no comment.  I'm trying to get a copy of his records, but so far it's glacial down there."

I leaned back against the cupboard and stared blindly at the refrigerator door, thinking.

"What do you know about Optek?" I asked.

"Big transnational, headquarters in places you've never heard of before.  They got one in L.A., and in Moscow, and in Tokyo, and — you get the picture.  Security work — play both ends, do a lot of peripheral stuff like manufacturing security systems, body armor, weapons, satellites, the spectrum.  Very top secret, very permafrost."

"That isn't good."

"Nope.  They know you're interested?"

"I don't believe they do...."

"I won't tell.  That's all I got for now.  I can send you the usual on Optek, and I'll let you know if I learn anything more about Ceraphian.  Ready?"

"Thanks, Snake."  I waited as he plugged the payphone receiver jack into his modem and started to upload to my drive.  While the machines spoke, I took off the earphones, tapping them gently against the edge of my portable as I considered.

***

She dropped her purse and bags on the floor, threw herself on the leather chaise lounge, and sighed.

A few years ago she'd loved driving in L.A.; it was an adventure, flashing from lane to lane at eighty, ninety miles an hour, learning the traffic patterns and the fastest way to get from place to place.

But after three years, the excitement had palled.  Now she grit her teeth whenever she had to face freeway hell.  It wasn't surprising that some people got frustrated enough to open fire out there.

Seventy-minutes getting home from the studio.  Her luck to get out during prime-time traffic; any other time, it'd be a half-hour, forty-five minute drive, tops.  She kicked off her heels and flexed her toes, sighing.  It was time to think about getting a new job, something closer to home, something she could put on an honest resume.

After a luxurious moment of relaxation, she stirred and leaned over the couch arm to flick on the blinking answering machine.

"Hello Sapphire, this is Dane.  Got a quickie for you with Marcus Curt.  Give me a call."

She picked up her mail from the floor and began sorting through it.

"Hi, Jamie?  This is Tracey.  Remember that neighborhood I was telling you about?  I found a condo you might want to look into.  I'll be around this evening, so call or drop by, okay?"

She opened the water and power bill and nodded to herself.  No extra charges this month.  Fixing the leaking sink had helped, after all.

"Hello, Jamilah?"

Startled, she turned and looked at the machine, as if to see the speaker's face.

"This is Rashid.  I'd like to talk to you soon.  Will you call me?  My number is 414-870-2235.  Don't be worried; it is not family business.  I promise."

She snapped off the machine, rewound it, and copied the number.  For a moment she looked at it, remembering; and then she pulled the phone on her lap and dialed.

The number rang through, but instead of a voice, she heard a low, electronic hum.

"Rashid?"

The hum continued, then suddenly clicked.

"Jamilah?"  The voice sent a surge of affection through her.

"Hello, little brother," she said with a smile, leaning back in the couch.  "I'm surprised you called."

"Ah — my life has been rather busy, lately."

"For three years?" she gently teased.  "Well, now that I've got you on the line, tell me what you've been doing over there on the cold coast."

"A little of this and a little of that," he said evasively.  "A lot of computer work, and even a little honest work."

"You," she sighed, shaking her head.  "Whatever would grandfather think?"

"I make a point of not finding out," Rashid said with soft humor.  "But I did promise you I wasn't going to talk family."

"Then what does bring you to call me after all this time?  Need money?"

"Actually, I've been thinking about going west for the winter.  Do you think you could find a room for a friend and I for a few weeks?"

"Maybe.  What's his name?"

"Jade."

"Blond?"

Rashid sighed.

"Yes."

"Blue eyes?"

"Yes."

"Cute?"

"Yes."

She chuckled, eyes dancing.

"You haven't changed.  I've got room here, as long as you two don't mind sharing a bed.  I'd like to see you again, little brother."

"And I'd like to see you again.  I haven't made any final travel arrangements yet, but I'll call you in a day or two, okay?"

"No problem.  I'm in and out, but the machine's always on.  Just tell me when you'll be in, and I'll pick you up from LAX."

"I will.  Thank you."

"What are big sisters for?  'love you, Rashid."

"I love you too, Jamilah.  I'll talk to you later."

"Bye."

"Bye."

She hung up with a grin, looking across the living room to the photo that sat on the mantelpiece of the useless fireplace.  She'd tossed the rest of the photos, but the one of her and Rashid as kids, throwing Halloween pumpkin entrails at each other, was one of her favorites.  It had been three years since she'd last spoken to her little brother, and over six years since she'd seen him.  It was hard to imagine what he'd look like now.  A man of twenty-five?  Would she even recognize him in the airport?

It'd be nice, she thought warmly, for the two black sheep of the family to see each other again.

***

"So how come you never told me you had a sister?" Jade asked, pulling a beer out of the refrigerator and leaning on the window sill.  I snapped pick forty-five into the drive and scanned the directory.

"You never asked," I replied, trying to hide a smile.  He had been trying not to be nosy, but his resolve was failing.

"So, now I am," he said impatiently.  "Come on, give.  I never knew you had family."

Records of purchase, sale.

"I have more family than I care to think about," I murmured, sliding the pick out and placing it on the "eventually useful" stack.  Pick forty-six.

"Around here?"

"Everywhere."

"But they never call, visit...."

I peered over the tops of the virlight mirrorshades at him.

"They don't approve of my lifestyle," I said simply.  He looked startled, then embarassed, and I turned back to the directory, satisfied that I'd ended that line of questioning. 

"And your sister?"

I sighed, pulling off the mirrorshades and looking up at him.  It seemed I wasn't going to be left in peace to work until I'd satisfied his curiosity.

"They do not approve of her lifestyle, either.  She stars in pornographic movies under the name Sapphire Belle."

Jade nearly choked on his beer, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and staring at me.

"Christ, Shaman!  No! That's awful!"

"Is it?"  I shrugged, hands resting on the computer keyboard.  "She doesn't think so."

"But — don't they, you know, force girls to do that kind of stuff?  How can she be happy?"

"It is her job."  I remembered her confiding the news to me when I was just nineteen, before the family dinner that had finally estranged me for good from my parents and sibs.  I'd been shocked, too, and had asked her the same questions.  Her answers had forced me to carefully consider the reasons behind my opinion of pornography, and of those in the business.  I had finally come to simply accept her chosen way of life, as she accepted mine.  "You can ask her about it when you meet her."

Jade shook his head, still shocked.  It amused me that after all we had seen together, there were still things that could shake him.  Jade liked to imagine himself a hardened criminal, but it didn't take much to break through his facade.

He hadn't grown up with enough treachery and betrayal in his life to really get hardened.

"How did she get into it?"

"I don't know the details," I said, shrugging.  "I believe she thought it was a fast way to break into acting."

"And she hasn't had any luck, huh?  I mean, real movies?"

"No.  Not that I know of, although I haven't talked to her for many years."

"Bad feelings?"

"Drift."  I leaned back against the table leg, setting the portable on the floor and resting my arms on my knees.  "The entire U.S. lies between us, after all."

"Yeah, that's the way it goes, sometimes."  Jade drained the beer and set it on the windowsill next to him.  "I don't talk all that much to my family, either."

I remained silent, watching him.  To deal with Jade, sometimes, is to deal with a skittish animal; there are things he will shy from, unless met with patient silence.

It is well that I am comfortable with silence.

"Well," he finally said, made uncomfortable, "they're just not where I'm at, you know?  It's not like your family — they know I'm gay, and they don't mind — but, well, they're Midwest and I'm East Coast.  After a while, what's left to say?"

"Is there such a difference?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.  He shrugged.

"Sometimes, yeah.  They don't know what the streets are like, don't know computers or computer politics.  We don't read the same books, care about the same things.  They've got their own concerns, over there."

"Yes."  I nodded, picking torn threads from the cuffs of my jeans.  It was odd that now, of all times, we suddenly had begun to talk about ourselves.  After two years, it seemed strange to bring up details of our lives that the other hadn't known before.

Of course, I had already researched Jade's past. I'm not a fool. But I was touched that he was volunteering it now.

"How many brothers and sisters do you have, anyway?"

"Four brothers.  Three sisters."

Jade whistled softly.

"Big family, nowdays."

"The family is much larger than that," I said quietly, looking up at him again.  "But I would prefer not to talk about it."

I knew that hurt Jade's feelings, but I begin to suffer headaches when I think about my family for too long.  He looked down, playing with the beer bottle.

We sat that way a few minutes, the hum of the refrigerator the only noise.

"One last question, Shaman?" he asked.

"Of course," I said softly.

"What's your name, then?"

I smiled to myself, feeling a soft wrench.  So many revelations so quickly.

How quickly you come to accept what you know of a person as that person's sum.  How soon you forget that person had once had a life before you.

One does not question the hidden pasts of the street, and so one is taken by surprise when the unspoken rule is broken.

But I did not think he would recognize the name.

"Rashid," I replied, looking up at him.  "Rashid Suleiman."

"Rashid Suleiman," he repeated, trying it.  It felt odd, to hear my real name on his lips.  Spoken twice in one day, after having lain unused for three years.  "Rashid.  Shaman.  Yes."  He nodded to himself, satisfied.  Then he grinned quickly at me, caught by one of those mercurial mood shifts that keep me from tiring of his company.

"My real name's Michael Shastar," he admitted.  I laughed quietly, even though I had known it for a long time.

"Strange, isn't it?" I asked, shaking my head from side to side.

"Yeah," Jade agreed, understanding completely.

"Do we go, then?"

"Your sister doesn't mind?"

"No."  I could say that with confidence.  Jamilah and I have always been free to presume each upon the other.

"California sounds fun.  What are we going to do there?"

"We are going to investigate Aspirant's background and Optek's holdings.  We are also going to continue our investigations into the underground net.  The access number you were given by your late companion was based in Southern California."

"Can't you get the shadow on him here?"  Jade gestured to the portable between us.  I shook my head.

"Despite what is portrayed on the movies and television," I explained, smiling slightly to myself, "it's not that easy.  The further I am stretched, the more uplinks I use, the more chance there is of somebody putting a successful trace on my line.  Moreover, of late things have been getting a little too active here for our safety."

Jade looked curiously at me, pale eyebrows rising.

"There is," I reminded him, "a gunrunner on our collective tail, and an unresolved firefight with Lone Star."

"They won't find us," he said confidently.  I wished I could share his optimism, but I have found a constant low-grade paranoia to be an asset in life.

"Perhaps not.  Nevertheless, I think a vacation would behoove us both."  I glanced at him, making light of my too-real concern.  "They say Los Angeles is nice this time of year."

"Hmm."  He eyed me, then grinned.  "Maybe your sister will take us to Disneyland.  I've never been."

"I'll ask," I promised, imagining him in Mickey Mouse ears and covering my eyes with one hand to banish the thought.

***

Möbius Joke was screaming through the Revelation Rag and I was dreaming something out of Blake when everything went silent.  I jerked out of the seat, nearly knocking the portable out of my lap.

"Fasten up, we're almost there," Jade said, peering out the window and holding my earphone plug in one hand.

"Are you aware that audius interupptus is the leading cause of death among ferrophiles?"

"Hmm?"  He wasn't listening, fascinated by the sprawling grey monster of a city below us.  "Is Los Angeles bigger than New York?"

"Probably."  I yawned and rubbed my eyes.  Sleeping at the drop of a hat is a skill I'd cultivated as a youth, and it still hadn't left me.  Jade had brought along some paperbacks, which he'd opened after an aborted few minutes of attempting to listen to music with me.  An inability to listen to metal at ear-splitting decibels is one of his few weaknesses.

I shut the portable and stowed it under the seat as we began to descend.  Jade was riveted by the experience; this was his first time on an airplane, he'd confided to me while we waited to board, so I'd given him the window seat, thinking it would interest him.  Apparently I'd been right.

Getting tickets hadn't been too difficult.  Between Snake and I, we'd managed to cobble together makeshift identification, charging the tickets on the cards of two men who'd been too careless with their credit receipts.  Jade had suggested travelling under our real names, but I didn't want to find out that the police or Rattler had managed to put an ID trace on us.  I also tend to avoid using identification that my family can run a check upon.

We disembarked with little fuss, carried into LAX proper in the surge of bodies.  I searched the crowd, wondering if I'd recognize Jamilah after so many years.

"Rashid!"  Her voice over the crowd.  I turned and saw her waving, a hopeful, expectant look in her bright eyes.

Ah, it hurt that she looked so familiar.  The same fine-boned features, long black hair that swept down her back, dark eyes that commanded your gaze.  She was wearing Los Angeles clothes, a short silk-and-lace top over skin-tight black jeans whose tops were tucked into expensive tennis shoes.

Six years, and it didn't seem like she'd changed at all.

"Oh, Rashid, it's so good to see you!"  She bounded up and I swept her into a hug, trying to swallow back a sudden rush of memories.  I hadn't realized how much I had missed her.

"Hi, Jamilah," I whispered unsteadily, pushing her back to look at her again.  She smiled and reached out, brushing my face with her fingertips.  They came away damp, and I knew I had to say something before I simply could not.  "Jamilah, this is Jade."

"How are you?" she asked, shaking his hand and smiling warmly.  Jade had a broad grin on his face, watching the two of us.  "I'm so glad to meet you!"

"The same."  He snuck a glance at me, enjoying himself.  "It's great to meet some of Shaman's family."

"Shaman, huh?" she remarked, glancing at me.  "I'm not going to call you that, Rashid. So, Jade, are you a microchip addict, too?"

"Nah.  I never got past video games.  You can call me Mike, if you like that better."

"No, Rashid will be calling you Jade, and I'll just get more confused.  I have three names myself, around here; one for my producer, one for my friends, and one for my family."

"I never did like the name Jamie," I remarked, watching them.  I was pleased at the ease with which Jade spoke to her, and the ease to which she spoke back.  It was important to me that the two most valued people in my life get along.

"Neither did grandpa," she said, grinning over her shoulder.  "That's why I chose it.  Let's go get your bags."

The libary's records on Cedars-Sinai scrolled by as I silently recorded all the data I could pull.  I lifted the virlight mirrorshades off and rubbed my eyes.

Jade and Jamilah were sitting in the living-room, ostensibly watching Wilde's Ide on videodisk, but the sound had been turned down and their voices were a constant murmur.  I closed my eyes and listened, sounds I hadn't heard in years.  The low, steady hum of the air conditioner, the refrigerator; television, cars outside.  Voices; a relative's, a friend's.

The smell of a dinner that didn't come out of a bag or a box.  The feel of a wooden table, thick carpet.

Everything I'd left behind years ago, and thought I'd never miss.

It's surprising, sometimes, the things you lose track of.  The losses you never notice until they're found again.

It had been a long time since I'd lived in an apartment for longer than a month, since I'd eaten anywhere but fast-food restaurants or listened to others in relaxed conversation.  There was a hardness in my life, a coldness, that I had come to take for granted.  Somehow, I had never realized Jamilah had managed to avoid it; that a real life, a complete life, was possible outside the family.

I let myself smile slightly and opened my eyes.  The "download completed" message glowed on the screen.

Maudlin self-reflection had never suited me well.

We were here to hide from the enemies we had recently made.  That was my only purpose; survival.  But a prerequisite of survival is often planning ahead.  I wished to know who had set Jade up; who Aspirant had worked for; who had been shooting at Aspirant's allies; who ran the underground net.

I was running handicapped in a race that could mean my life.  Jade likes to call me a datavangelist, but my equipment had been lost before he had met me, my power shattered in the sweep that had introduced us, fellow refugees.  The small portable I carried was the best I could afford, but grievously underpowered for the work I needed to complete.

I wondered how many of my old accounts had survived the Fedcorp sweep.

It could well be time to update my equipment.

"Ice cream, Rashid?" Jamilah asked, walking in and crossing to the refrigerator.  I watched her; she'd grown.  Not so much physically, as mentally.  So much more self-assured, away from the family.

"Wake up," she said gently.  I laughed softly.  Ice cream was something else I hadn't indulged in for some time.

"Thank you," I said.  She pulled the small container from the freezer and began dishing it up.  Jade walked in, dropped to the floor and leaned against the cupboards.

"Any luck?"

"A bit."  I watched him, too.  He was much more relaxed, now.  It made him look younger.

Was the life I'd introduced him to really so cruel?

"Just try to keep the cops from my door," Jamilah said cheerfully, handing us the dishes.  Spoons jingled against the china.  "They aren't real sympathetic to porn stars.  Sometimes I think we rank lower than hookers in this town."

"Trust me," I murmured, glancing up at her.  She laughed.  Those words had gotten us into more trouble than either could remember, over the years.

Jade sat and smiled as we began to try.

***

Snake called in the middle of the night.  I woke to the whir of the machine as suddenly as I'd once awoken to the sound of my door creaking open, and reached for it.  A moment's disorientation at being above the floor instead of next to it, and then I rolled out of bed, picked it up and walked into the hall.

The bathroom was the nearest place I could close a door and turn on a light; so I took advantage of it while I watched Snake's data scroll across the screen.  When it was over, I unfolded the earphones from their slot and plugged in.

"Snake?" I whispered, hoping he hadn't hung up.  A click, and he replied.

"Shit, don't you ever sleep?"

"Not much.  Listen, I need a check on some accounts, find out if they're tapped."

"Think the feds are watching your boy?"

"Or someone, it doesn't matter.  What I need to know is if they're all being watched, or if some of them look safe."

"Watcha got?"

"Name, Sirchade Montrose, number 2346651446.  Name, Etienne Blake, number 0976756543.  Name, Raj Jidhal, number 390473024.  Okay so far?"

"Keep going, friend, it's your money."

I smiled slightly.

"Those were domestic.  These are foreign.  Name, Henri Jetherain, number 3989832dash321.  Name, Melyssa DuFoice, number 356dash2135dash054.  Okay?"

"These all our pal's?"

"They're important to the investigation, anyway."

Snake grunted.

"All you want to know is if someone could draw funds out of them without getting eyeballed, right?"

"Right."

"Not how much is in the account or anything?"

"No.  The important thing is to find out which accounts these people are going to think are safe to withdraw money from."

"You want me to hack in and transfer the funds to your account?"

"No."

"Okay. You're the boss."  I could tell Snake thought it was a waste of time.  "That it?"

"That's all, Snake.  Thank you."

"Call you back when I get something."

***

I needed Jamilah.  I would have used Jade if I had known him when I was setting up, but it was too late, and I didn't feel I had time to find a forger in Los Angeles.

"You're paranoid," Jamilah said without preamble when I showed her the card and book.

"I have had reason to be.  You know that."

She sighed and inspected the card once more; photo identification for Melyssa DuFoice.  The photo was of her.  She shook her head and glanced at the sum in the bankbook.

"What did you do, embezzle Father?" she asked, tossing it aside.

"Unfortunately, no.  It's all mine."

"Well," she sighed, "I guess it's about as legal as we're going to get, then."  She looked at me, dark eyes serious.  "But this is it.  I don't want to get involved in your schemes against the family, all right?"

"This is not a scheme.  This is a need for money.  I created these accounts for emergencies."

"And it's an emergency now?"  She searched my face.  I waited.  My sister is often like me, and I knew what she would find.  "Rashid, is this something I should know about?"

"Someone tried to kill Jade.  He — and now I — possess information that is apparently very important.  I'm trying to save us both and find out what it is that we have."

"Government?"

"I'm not sure."  I paused, then admitted, "Partially."

"Shit."  She rubbed her forehead.  "All right.  All right."  Looked up.  "I suppose you want me to drive, too."

I bowed my head and she stood, sighing.

"We will have to make several stops," I added as we left, feeling in my jacket pocket to make sure the bundle of bankbooks and fake identification was still there.

***

"Shaman."  Jade looked up, face pale.  "Why in hell didn't you tell me?"

I closed the backpack and heaved it off the bed.  It fell heavily in one corner and Jade winced, as if the bundles of bills could be physically damaged.

"I felt it unnecessary."  I sat on the bed and crossed my legs, certain this was going to take some time.

"If you had this much money," Jade said faintly, "why in hell have we been living like thieves?"  He looked at me like he didn't recognize me, and I felt something painful turn.  It surprised me.  I'm not used to feeling pain.  "Is it ... I mean ... didn't you trust me?"

I strangled the first words that came to my lips, because they would only hurt him, and because they were no longer entirely true.  I had not trusted him at first, although I had come to over the years.  I considered what I would say.

"There was too much risk involved in withdrawing the money," I said at last.

Jade stared at me, not understanding.  He wasn't one to understand the dangers that were not immediate, not there on the street rubbing shoulders with him.  I tried to explain.

"My family may have traced my pseudonyms.  I had to make sure they hadn't."

"Your family."  Jade slowly placed his hands on the brass rail of the bed and took a deep breath.  "Maybe it's time you told me about your family."

"No."  I looked up at him, noticed the tension in his face, the confused anger he was trying so hard to control.  "It's not time.  Please —" before he could speak, "trust me, Jade.  There are reasons for my silence that have nothing to do with trusting you."

The silence dragged on as he debated silently.  I shifted slightly, found my shoulders and neck aching from tension, made a conscious effort to relax.  It surprised me that Jade was showing such control.  I'd expected him to argue, to shout, to storm out.  He was not a man who liked to have secrets kept from him.

But he had changed since I first met him, and I hadn't noticed.

Taking someone for granted was dangerous. 

"Are there any secrets I should know that you can tell me?" he asked at last, still tense, but forcing himself to wait.

I took his request seriously, and thought.  A lifetime of privacy, a lifetime of secrets.  Which might he need to know?

A large part of the question hinged on whether or not Snake had been correct in his evaluation of which accounts were safe and which were not.  For if my family learned of my sudden financial activity, Jade would be in much more danger than he was now.

One rose to mind and startled me, so I set it aside for further consideration.  Perhaps Jade should know ... but not until I was certain.

"No," I said slowly.  "I don't think so."  I caught his eye, locked it, so that he would have to listen to me.  "I will tell you this; what you have already guessed.  My family is large.  It is dangerous.  It doesn't care for me.  If it hasn't noticed me taking this money, that is all you will ever need to know about them."

"Jamilah?"

"She, like me, left the family; but it accepted her loss.  Not mine."

"You're making me feel like I don't know you, Shaman," he said softly.

"You do know me," I said, hoping he believed me.  "It's just that nobody else does."

***

I rented a room in a sleazy apartment building in East Hollywood and had the equipment shipped there.  I used the shipping boxes as tables for the set-up.

"God, Shaman," Jade whistled.  "What in hell is all this stuff, anyway?"

"Everything.  And a little extra."

"It looks like you're planning to make a movie." He gazed at the green wall.

"If it becomes necessary."  I finished screwing in the alarm system and flicked it on and off.  Looked okay.  The last thing I wanted was to have everything taken by some petty thief.

"This is amazing."  He picked up a box of picks I'd ordered and flicked through them.  The light sparkled from them.  "What are all these?"

"Publishing, recording, videograb, animation — the usual."

"How much did it cost?"

I looked up and smiled gently at him.

"You don't want to know."

"Oh."  He sat down in the middle of the room and watched me walk back and forth, checking connections and making sure everything was connected to a surge protector.  "Do you have much cash left?"

"Enough to take you out to dinner tonight, at least," I replied, turning things on.  The room filled with soft humming, and the fans I'd connected began to turn and whir.  I cocked my head and closed my eyes, listening.  Yes.  It sounded right.  It sounded familiar.

It sounded secure.

"You're really a technophile, aren't you?" Jade asked, standing.  I opened my eyes to look at him and he laughed.  "Your pupils are dilated," he teased.  "This stuff really gets you off."

"Don't exaggerate," I chided him.  He chuckled and stepped forward, reaching out to draw my attention to something I hadn't noticed.

"Oh, I'm not," he said cheerfully.

We were late for our reservations.

***

Cerephian.  Cerephian.  I stared up at the data flashing in a colorless blur past my eyes, not really seeing anything.  Where was the link?  What was the next step?

No visitors allowed in Cedars-Sinai, and he was scheduled to be out in another two weeks.  I had considered having him abducted as he stepped outside, but I didn't know the right people in L.A. for that, and preferred not to bring those I did know cross-country for this.

His records were iced, sable, not a chance of breaking into them.  Snake swore he'd never seen more security outside of the Pentagon.  We could get the basics, a home address, some bank accounts, credit rating, driving records - but they were false.  All of them.  We double-checked and backtracked, and all of the records eventually led into the twilight zone. 

It was really quite impressive.  I wondered if I could do as secure a job on my own records, and doubted it.

I'd finally finished scanning Rattler's records, and had figured out as much as I could.  He had been a small arms supplier and manpower procurer for unorganized crime.  Small-time, but big enough to have a record and be known to the big boys.

The feds hadn't gotten their weapons from him.  Cerephian's people had their own suppliers for that.

But the other side.  They must have gotten their weapons from someone, and Rattler had been the best choice.  He had the grip on small-time New York.  Now, if they had bigger and better links, we'd lost a lot of time....

But I didn't think so.

I'd narrowed the records down to about a hundred unknowns, and Snake was running tracers on them.  In the meantime, I let the data flow by and hoped my subconscious would pick up something new.

099999010.  That was the number Jade had told me, that had been given to him by a dying man. 

And who were the the people who'd traced the number?  They were people interested in hackers looking for the underground nets.  They were people who didn't like the fedcorp, didn't like them enough to open fire and toss grenades.

"Shaman?"

I closed my eyes and pulled off the virlight shades, then slowly opened them again.  It was dark out.  Jade stood over me, just barely visible in the light from the electronic equipment.

"Yes, Jade?"

"You've been sitting there for three hours."

I sat up, feeling the aches and stiffness that guaranteed the truth of Jade's claim, and looked around.

(UNFINISHED, SORRY!)