Bridge Trilogy. Part two

Rez joined him. She saw Rez touch the monocle. “What are they doing, Keithy? What is it?”

“It’s your funeral,” the big man said. 41. ~andIeIight and Tears Office windows flickered past, very close, beyond the earthquake-bandaged uprights of the expressway. Taller buildings gave way to a lower sprawl, then something bright in the middle distance: HOTEL KING MIDAS. The dashboard map began to bleep.

“Third exit right,” Laney said, watching the cursor. He felt her

accelerate and heard the speed-limit warning kick in. Another glittering sign: FREEDOM SHOWER BANFF.

“Laney-san,” Yamazaki asked, around the headrest. “Did you apprehend any suggestion of Rez’s death or other misfortune?”

“No, but I wouldn’t, not unless there was a degree of intentionality that would emerge from the data. Accidents, actions by anyone who isn’t represented. . .” The clanging stopped as she slowed, approaching the exit indicated on the map. “But I saw their data as streams, merging, and whatever it was merging around seemed to be where we’re going.”

Arleigh made the exit. They were on the off-ramp now, swinging through a curve, and Laney saw three young girls, their shoes clumped with mud, descending a sharp slope planted with some kind of pale rough grass. One of them seemed to be wearing a school uniform: kneesocks and a short plaid skirt. They looked unreal, in the harsh sodium light of the intersection, but then Arleigh stopped the van and Laney turned to see the road in front of them completely blocked by a silent, unmoving crowd. “Jesus,” Arleigh said. “The fans.” 267

4U. The Business When nobody did anything to help Maryalice, Chia got up from the bed, squeezed past the Russian and into the bathroom, triggering the ambient bird track. The black cabinet was open, its light on, and there were Day-Gb penis-things scattered across the black and white tile floor. She took a black towel and a black washcloth from a heated chrome rack, wet the washcloth at the black and chrome basin, and went back to Maryalice. She folded the towel, put it down over the vomit on the white carpet, and handed Maryalice the washcloth.

Nobody said anything, or tried to stop her. Masahiko had sat back down on the carpet, with his computer between his feet. The scarred man, who seemed to take up as much space as anything in the room, had lowered his axe. He held it down, along a thigh wider than Chia’s hips, with the spike jutting from beside his knee.

Maryalice, who’d managed to sit up now, wiped her mouth with

the cloth, taking most of her lipstick with it. When Chia straightened up, a whiff of the Russian’s cologne made her stomach heave.

“You’re a developer, you say?” Rez still held the nanotech unit.

“You are asking many questions,” the Russian said. Eddie

groaned, then, and the Russian kicked him. “Basis,” the Russian

said.

“A public works project?” Rez raised his eyebrow. “A water filtration plant, something like that?”

The Russian kept his eye on the big man’s axe. “In Tallin,” he said, “we soon are building exclusive mega-mall, affluent gated sub- o 0 263 urbs, plus world-class pharmaceutical manufakura. We are unfairly denied most advanced means of production, but we are desiring one hundred percent modern operation.”

“Rez,” the man with the axe said, “give it up. This hoon and his mates need that thing to build themselves an Estonian drug factory. Time I took you back to the hotel.”

“But wouldn’t they be more interested in . . . Tokyo real estate?”

The big man’s eyes bulged, the scars on his forehead reddening. One of the upper arms of the micropore X had come loose, revealing a deep scratch. “What bulishit is that? You don’t have any real estate here!”

“Famous Aspect,” Rez said. “Rei’s management company. They invest for her.”

“You are discussing nanotech exchanged for Tokyo real estate?” The Russian was looking at Rez.

“Exactly,” Rez said.

“What kind real estate?”

“Undeveloped landfill in the Bay. An island. One of two. Off one of the old ‘Toxic Necklace’ sites, but that’s been cleaned up since the quake.”

“Wait a minute,” Maryalice said, from the floor. “I know you. You were in that band, the one with the skinny Chinese, the guitar player, wore the hats. I know you. You were huge.”

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