“What the fuck is this place?” Ryan said to Nara.
“Hell on Earth,” she replied.
“For most people, Jurascik,” the leader of the mercies said as he turned around in his seat, “this is Earth.”
Then he addressed Ryan’s question. “We’re on Thrill Bill Ransom’s turf right now. Turned himself into a self-styled warlord, thanks to FIVE’S Population Control Service.”
“I hate to break the news,” Ryan said, “but your population doesn’t look all that controlled.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. PCS’s approach to the problem has always been consistent. That is, scattergun and harebrained. One of their most brilliant ideas was to pass out free projectile-firing guns and ammunition to the underclasses, who were doing most of the baby making. The idea being, since the FIVE troops protecting the CEOs and upper-level managers were immune to lead poisoning, and since the CEOs and upper-level managers were separated from the masses by miles of concrete, the underclasses could only do the world a favor and kill one another.
“Ransom’s just one of thousands of Consumer Rebellion vets who jumped on the PCS gun giveaway as an opportunity to set up private armies and carve out their own kingdoms. Below the red line, warlords like Thrill Bill are the only law.” He gestured toward the window. “And what’s out there stretches on forever.”
Ryan had never seen so many people in one place. Or such uniform expressions of despair and defeat. “High-list gloomers,” the merc behind him said. “Dead before their numbers come up.” An explanation that explained nothing. The van’s driver crept around a semitractor trailer stopped in the middle of the available road. The trailer’s side and rear doors were open and mobbed by people with outstretched arms. As they passed, Ryan saw a man inside throwing out armfuls of foil-wrapped packets. Painted on the side of trailer were the words Eat FIVES Fine Foods. Beefie Cheesie. Tater Cheesie.
“Let them eat rock!” the mercie leader pronounced.
A remark that made all the hooded soldiers-for-hire laugh. When the driver turned again, heading out of the center of the street and toward the narrow entrance to another ramp, the tension bottled up inside Nara finally exploded. “This isn’t the way to the safe-house!” she yelled at the mercie leader. “What the fuck are you trying to pull, Damm?”
“There’s been a change in plans,” Damm said as he removed his ski mask. His wiry brown hair was shaved to stubble. What had to be a laser scar wrapped around his meaty chin, like a chunk of twisted purple rope.
The other eleven mercies took their masks off, too. All of them, the women included, had buzz cuts. Their eyes had a look that Ryan had seen before, somewhere beyond exhaustion.
“You can’t do this,” Nara told him. “We had a deal.”
“Considering how important Mr. Wonderful is, it seemed like me and my people were getting the short end of the stick. Why should Mitsuki have the only chance to bid on what’s in his head? There are four other Globals who deserve an equal shot at the prize.”
“How much more do you want?”
“It’s not a question of more, Jurascik. It’s a question of different. We don’t want drugs, money or guns. We want transport.”
“Armored personnel carriers?”
“No. Transport. As in, forget FIVE’S fucking fixed lottery, we want immediate passage to Shadow World. As in, today. With weapons, a lifetime supply of power packs, full battle kitsand since you’re offering, we’ll take a pair of APCs, too.”
Nara didn’t consider the request for more than a second. “I think all that’s doable,” she snapped back. But only if you dont call in the rest of the Globals. You cant play them one against another to get their price. And once the other four find out whats happened, you wont be able to deal with Mitsuki either. The FIVE will band together and stomp you flat. Theyll never allow just one of their conglomerates to control Ryan. Rather than give up that kind of advantage, theyd prefer to see him dead, his information destroyed and the playing field leveled for all.
The mercie leader rubbed the scar on his chin thoughtfully.