“Porting,” Chia said, unable to think of a quick way to explain the Walled City.
“I can see that. You came here ’cause these places’ll re-post, right?”
“But you found us anyway.”
“I got connections with a cab company. I figured it was worth a try. But the Russians’ll think of it, too, if they haven’t already.”
“But how’d you get in? It was all locked.”
“I know my way around these places, honey. 1 know my way entirely too well.”
Masahiko removed the black cups that covered his eyes, saw Maryalice, looked down at the cups, then back up at Chia.
“Maryalice,” Chia said.
Gomi Boy presented like a life-size anime of himself, huge eyes and even taller hair. “Who drank the vodka?” he asked.
“Maryalice,” Chia said. “Who’s Maryalice?”
“She’s in the room at the hotel,” Chia said.
“That was the equivalent of twenty minutes porting,” Gomi Boy said. “How can there be someone in your room at the Hotel Di?”
“It’s complicated,” Chia said. They were back in Masahiko’s room in the Walled City. They’d just clicked back, none of that maze-running like the first time. Past an icon reminding her she’d left her Venice open, but too late for that. Maybe once you were in here, you got back fast. But Masahiko’d said they had to, quick, there was trouble. Maryalice had said she didn’t mind, but Chia didn’t like it at all that Maryalice was in the room with them while they were porting.
a a 197 “Your cash card is good for twenty-six more minutes of room-time,” Gomi Boy said. “Unless your friend hits the mini-bar again. Do you have an account in Seattle?”
“No,” Chia said, “just my mother.
“We’ve already looked at that,” Masahiko said. “Your mother’s credit would not sustain rental of the room plus porting charges. Your father-”
“My father? “Has an expense account with his employer in Singapore, a merchant bank-”
“How do you know that?”
Gomi Boy shrugged. “Walled City. We find things out. There are people here who know things.”
“You can’t tap into my father’s account,” Chia said. “It’s for his job.”
“Twenty-five minutes remaining,” Masahiko said.
Chia pulled her goggles off. Maryalice was taking another miniature bottle from the little fridge. “Don’t open that!”
Maryalice gave a guilty little shriek and dropped the bottle. “Just maybe some rice crackers,” she said.
“Nothing,” Chia said. “It’s too expensive! We’re running out of money!”
“Oh,” Maryalice said, blinking. “Right. I don’t have any, though. Eddie’s cut my cards off, for sure, and the first time I plug one, he’ll know exactly where I am.’
Masahiko spoke to Chia without removing the eyecups. “We have your father’s expense account on line.
Maryalice smiled. “What we like to hear, right?”
Chia was pulling off her tip-sets. “You’ll have to take it to them,” she said to Maryalice, “the nano-thing. I’ll give it to you now, you take it to them, give it to them, tell them it was all a mistake.” She scooted on her hands and knees over to where her bag sat open on the floor. She dug for the thing, found it, held it out to Maryalice in what was left of the blue and yellow bag from the SeaTac duty-free. The William Gibson dark gray plastic and the rows of little holes made it look like some kind of deformed designer pepper grinder. “Take it. Explain to them. Tell them it was just a mistake.”
Maryalice cringed. “Put it back, okay?” She swallowed. “See, the problem isn’t whether or not there’s been a mistake. The problem’s they’ll kill us now anyway, because we know about it. And Eddie, he’ll let ’em. ‘Cause he has to. And ’cause he’s just sort of generally fed up with me, the ungrateful little greasy shithead motherfucker Maryalice shook her head sadly. “It’s about the end of our relationship, you ask me.”
“Account accessed,” Masahiko said. “Join us here now, please. You have another visitor.”
I 99
29. Her Bad Side Arleigh’s van smelled of long-chain monomers and warm electronics. The rear seats had been removed to make room for the collection of black consoles, cabled together and wedged into place with creaking wads of bubble-pack.