"Bucky, he's dead!" another decker shouts. "Jim's dead!"

"This is impossible!" Freese shrieks.

Three of the deckers direct an unbroken stream of sedans down the exit ramp and into the portal. Freese yanks an item from his police-style equipment belt. Trace and Burn! it winks. He fires a liquid stream at the whirling star and then suddenly he's screaming too and it's all going completely to s.h.i.t.

Freese slams through the walls of his temporary node and then Gordon's display screen goes blank.

Gordon looks across his desk at Freese.

"What the f.u.c.k happened?"

Freese's face is gleaming with sweat. He looks considerably worse than a deckhead who's suffering from dump shock. He looks scared. "I'm not sure what happened."

This is not an answer that Gordon likes. If someone offered to fling Freese out the nearest available window, Gordon would feel tempted. But that's purely an emotional response. He lights a fresh Platinum Select. "What's your theory?"

"It's still evolving."

Gordon leans back in his chair. He sips his coffee. "You tried to trace utility. You got dumped."

Freese nods.

"Your opposition used the Fuchi star for an icon. Internal Security?"

Freese shakes his head. "There's no . . . there's no record of IntSec being involved. I checked."

"Three of your deckers appeared to lose control of their icons."

"We're not clear on exactly what happened with that."

Gordon nods. "I'll tell you what happened. Somebody's got program code and talent as good as our best. What does that suggest?"

Freese spends a while working that over, looking more anxious than before. "I'm not sure," he says finally. "I've been thinking about it. I don't think the hostile used program code that slipped out the back door. Nothing this hot ever slipped out."

"Then what?"

"Something new," Freese says. "The hostile scammed us. My temporary node turned green just before the attack. I think that was a deliberate effect. That's where the attack really started. I think what the hostile did was create a mirage. He superimposed his own code over the temporary node I constructed. A node within a node. Then, when I moved against him, I became in effect a decker intruding on a hostile node. He redirected my trace, and the redirect inserted tapeworm IC into the trace code. And the worm rode my signal right into my workstation CPU. I had to crash my workstation or the worm would've scrambled every pulse of hard memory I had."

"Which tells us what?"

Freese hesitates. "The slag's hot. His code is hot. His system, deck, whatever, is liquid fire. Hoi, I'm not even sure if what I just said is possible."

"Did he come in through the Matrix?"

"I got my team working on that. We're searching the archives for any indications. But if he sleazed the SANs like he scammed us I doubt we'll find anything."

Gordon doubts it, too. Doubts that someone with the talent to breach the Fuchi private telecommunications grid would stumble over the telltales that would record the intrusion. Not if that person had help. Not if, like Freese, that person was up to date on the latest access codes and security protocols. The hostile might have jacked in through the Matrix or even a Fuchi mainframe-no way to know just yet-but it's almost a certainty that whoever scammed Freese had help from the inside. That's how it works.

There's no denying that the walls of the Fuchi grid are tallest where they meet the Matrix, but it's also a fact that Fuchi mainframes maintain defenses in depth. It's just as easy to get burned by Red-12 security somewhere on the inside as at the outer walls. And getting out alive is no less a feat than getting in. The rare few who've managed it, in so far as Gordon is aware, all had help from the inside.

"Who knew you were making the intercept?"

"Just my team."

And maybe a spouse or live-in, or a friend or friends of friends. But never mind that for now. Gordon can see he's got plenty of work ahead without carrying out every calculation to the final decimal point. Obviously, he's going to have to launch a special op merely to find out precisely who had advance knowledge of the intercept and how that knowledge was used. Obviously, whoever sleazed Freese is a threat and that threat must be terminated. Gordon must also decide whether or not to roll up the special operations group under Freese's control before it becomes an embarra.s.sment of cataclysmic proportions.

Deckheads are no less expendable than banking VPs. It's really just a question of whether or not the expenditure is warranted. Fortunately, Freese and his group work off-premises, under the auspices of a Fuchi subsidiary, so Gordon at least has the option of making some plausible denial of responsibility.

"I want you scanning for any indication that the intercept was noticed and traced back to us."

Freese nods. "Okay. Sure."

"Start now."

Freese takes the hint and departs.

12.

The building lies on the far side of New York City, beyond the Hudson River, in part of Newark's Sector 6 known as Little Asia. As buildings go it is rather small and una.s.suming, four stories tall, made of brick, small windows of reinforced transparex, and more than a century old. It is easy to miss, situated between the bright, colorful facades of the Willow Club and the Holy Savior Buddhist Temple, overshadowed by the brilliant neon and sizzling laser displays lighting the rest of the street, turning night into day and directing the eye to the many restaurants and bars and nightclubs and pac.h.i.n.ko parlors and small casinos and stores and other businesses pervading the district.

This one small, una.s.suming brick building might be considered wholly unremarkable, unworthy of notice, except for the transparex panes of the revolving door leading into the ground-floor lobby, each marked with the mon of the Honjowara-gumi.

It has been the traditional headquarters of the Honjowara-gumi for more than four decades, located on Bergen Street.

Machiko arrives at four a.m. when a Hughes Stallion security chopper of the Nagato Security Defense Force alights briefly on the roof. Mere hours have pa.s.sed since the attacks on the GSG, and Machiko has had no rest. Nagato forces remain on alert. The threat that faces them remains a mystery. New attacks could conceivably arise from any quarter. Despite this, in just a few hours' time, Chairman Honjowara will travel here to the Bergen Street headquarters, to the very heart of the Newark plex, to conduct his monthly "Open House."

The very idea of exposing the Chairman to any unnecessary risks seems like madness, given the situation. Yet Machiko is sworn to obey as well as defend, and the Chairman will not be dissuaded.

"He who enters with a gun in hand reveals his fear," Honjowara-sama told her. "Remember this as you review the security preparations. Remember that our enemies will be watching."

Already, forces are in motion, preparations begun. Machiko finds that Major Hakatoro's number two, Captain Oseki, a very reliable and experienced officer of the Security Defense Force, has activated a command center on the second floor of the headquarters' building. Oseki has ordered barricades into place, blocking all vehicular traffic from the street running past the front of the headquarters and from the alleyway located to the rear. No pedestrians may pa.s.s the barricades without first proving their ident.i.ty and submitting to weapons checks. Technical teams are sweeping the block for anything resembling weapons or explosives. Special observation teams that include GSG snipers are even now taking up positions on selected rooftops along the block. Security choppers patrol the sky, alert for any unusual activity both from air traffic and on the ground.

Machiko puts on a headset tuned to the SDF frequencies and takes a brief tour of the block. She finds it difficult to keep a settled spirit, for everywhere she looks she sees a potential avenue of attack: from the surrounding streets, the alleyways, the rooftops. The presence of an advance squad of GSG, standing watch at the barricades, rea.s.sures her only a little. No more than the small teams of SDF performing weapons and security checks. She would like the entire block fortified on a scale equal to that of the Chairman's mansion. But that is not possible. The Chairman forbids it, for it is a matter of image and prestige.

The event of the day soon to dawn will be an event of the Honjowara-gumi. Nagato forces must therefore step aside. The SDF must maintain only the most minimal presence. Even the GSG must take care not to overshadow the clan's own force of irregulars, for it is the clan's own people who must be seen as having the dominant responsibility for security.

A company of hand-picked kobun, all in the signature red and black suit jackets of the clan, suit jackets rather than body armor, all trained in the use of weapons, primarily handguns, line the barricades at both ends of the block. Many are experienced fighters, but they lack the training and discipline of the SDF, and could hardly be considered warriors on the scale of the average member of the Guard.

Still, Machiko takes the time to meet and confer with each of the handful of wakashu, or young headmen, responsible for supervising the kobun. These headmen are important persons within the districts their particular factions control. They must be shown respect and the acting senior of the GSG must be seen showing them respect.

At four-thirty a.m., a female officer with the rank of deputy chief arrives from Omni Police Services, the corporation currently responsible for law enforcement within the Newark city limits. The deputy chief informs that OPS will be posting additional patrols to the district, and has several emergency teams on standby near the headquarters building. The deputy chief is of course quite content to allow the Honjowara-gumi to run its own show. Relations between Nagato Combine, the Honjowara-gumi in particular, and OPS may be characterized as generally excellent. That is due to the fact that Nagato Corporation owns a significant bloc of ownership shares in Sapporo Corp, which owns OPS. It is also a fact that the chairman of Sapporo is a distant cousin of Chairman Honjowara and their relations are usually cordial.

At four forty-five a.m., a council of district executives arrives, along with their headmen, coming from districts across the entire megaplex. They and the kobun who will soon meet them here on the streets of Little Asia will a.s.sist the local headmen in ensuring that peace and order are maintained throughout the entire hood.

Zoge-san, the Chairman's counselor and lifelong friend, is on hand to speak with the district executives and their headmen personally. He reminds them that the day of the Chairman's Open House has become a local festival, the festival of the lotus and reed, symbols of the clan. No unseemly incidents can be permitted. Suspicious persons spotted in the district should be detained for questioning. Rowdies and drunks should be apprehended and handed over to the OPS police. The kobun may utilize any degree of force necessary to see that the rules are obeyed, but always they must be discreet. On this day of all days, even the oldest of grandparents and the youngest of children must be able to walk the streets without fear of incident.

Of course, the kobun should follow all the usual guidelines for patrol of any clan district.

"The majority of our people live within a few blocks of their employment," Zoge-san says in a quiet, clear voice. "They do not drive, they walk. If you see people are having difficulty crossing the street, command traffic to halt. If a man drops litter on the sidewalk, call his attention to what he has done and why it is wrong. In all cases, you will be seen as the personal representative of the Chairman, his strong hand, intervening in the ordinary affairs of ordinary persons, like the father who correctly takes a keen interest in the lives of his children. Thus the people will be a.s.sured that their father watches over them and guards them. Thus you will earn the people's respect. And thus you will ensure that our clan continues to enjoy the support of the very people we must serve if we are to survive and prosper."

The senior district executive leads the entire group in a robust pledge of loyalty, then several loud and enthusiastic cheers, then gives the headmen their various a.s.signments.

At five a.m., the street vendors begin arriving. They come with carts and portable stalls and an immense variety of wares, many with shirts and hats and other items bearing the mon of the Honjowara-gumi. All must prove their ident.i.ties. All must be checked for weapons. Machiko tours the entire block for a second time, searching for any means by which she might fine-tune the defenses. She hears over her headset the GSG snipers reporting in, all clear. She is barely back to headquarters when she is approached by a district executive, a nervous man from a faction located in Trenton.

"Machiko-sama," he says, abruptly bowing. "Please. A matter for your attention."

Machiko opens her mouth to ask what has occurred, then merely follows the man as he turns and leads her to the alleyway at the rear of the headquarters building. Here, she finds two ork males in brown synthleather being restrained by a group of some eleven kobun. The headman of the group bows, and says, "These two were told to stay away from this alley. They kept hanging around and finally they attacked two of my men."

At a word from Machiko, the orks are stripped of their possessions, all but their clothes. Machiko examines these items one by one, but sees only a handgun, a few knives, credsticks, other paraphernalia common to lowly criminals. Nothing to suggest the a.s.sa.s.sin. The orks' jackets and various signs and symbols tattooed onto their hides identify them as members of a gang common to lower Manhattan, the Axemen gang. Street bangers. Such individuals carry weapons as a matter of routine. They probably wandered into the district with nothing more in mind than simple larceny.

But is this truly all the orks had in mind? How can Machiko be sure? She must make sure and she has little time. She could ask questions, but the orks would surely lie if they have sinister intentions. A formal interrogation is out of the question. The Chairman's motorcade is already en route. It will be arriving within the hour. If she is to order the motorcade to turn back, she must have some definite reason.

"You are on the wrong side of the Hudson," Machiko tells them. "Perhaps you are lost. Because you are strangers here, you will be shown leniency. You will not be punished. However, your property is forfeited to the men you attacked."

One ork snarls at her. "Frag that!"

The headman of kobun lashes out. The ork's head snaps backward, bleeding from both nose and mouth. He goes on snarling despite the blood, despite the obvious pain of his injuries. His snarls rise into vicious shouts of menace when Machiko orders the pair stripped of their Axemen jackets, and the b.l.o.o.d.y ork struggles, struggles like a rabid animal.

Machiko examines the jackets. All that she sees and hears amounts to nothing more or less than what she would expect of bangers, ork street bangers with bad tempers and no manners. Gutterpunks. Not a significant threat.

"This district is controlled by the Honjowara-gumi of Nagato Combine," Machiko tells the orks. "We have rules and we insist that these rules be obeyed. Gangers are not allowed in this district. Today, you will be escorted away. Do not return. If you return, you will be killed."

The bloodied ork sneers at her, then spits.

Her thoughts appear confirmed.

However, a display of such disrespect as spitting implies is intolerable. Thirteen pairs of eyes widen with shock and outrage, and the kobun react without waiting for instructions. Six of them drive the offending ork to the ground and begin administering a vicious beating. The other ork merely watches and so he is not punished. He watches Machiko as she uses her commlink to contact OPS. Machiko makes certain that he sees her doing this.

Within thirty seconds, an OPS cruiser comes roaring up the alley. The heavily armed and armored officers from the cruiser immediately ask how they may help.

Machiko says, "These persons are trespa.s.sing. You will please arrest them."

The orks are placed in handcuffs and driven away.

Justice comes in many forms. In Manhattan, the NYPD, Inc. shares the responsibility for justice with various other organizations. Here, in the district centered around Bergen Street, the Honjowara-gumi of Nagato Combine shares the responsibility, just as ultimately all people share the responsibility. The justice of the clan is fair and swift and, above all, founded upon respect. All people and all property must be shown respect. That is the basis of civilized society. Those who have no respect for anything but their own selfish desires, for criminality and mayhem, are dealt with accordingly. Barbarians are brutalized. The Way of such persons demands it. A brutal punishment such as a beating is the barbarian's own unique path to the Buddha nature, and, hence, to true enlightenment.

On any other day, Machiko might have taken some small satisfaction in helping another along the path to enlightenment.

Today, it is an unwelcome distraction.

13.

At five minutes before six a.m., the first grayish hints of the coming dawn streak the night sky and the headlights of the cars leading the Chairman's motorcade turn down the alleyway that runs behind the headquarters building.

The entire length of the alleyway is lit by floodlights and lined by kobun. Every window that might provide an a.s.sa.s.sin with a line of sight to the rear of the headquarters building is under observation by a GSG sniper. Every roof and every side alley is being watched by Nagato SDF personnel. Machiko and the balance of her advance team wait at the rear of the headquarters watching, watching everything, the roofs, the alleys, and now the motorcade.

The first three cars are full of Nagato SDF. These rush past the rear of the headquarters to their screening position at the end of the alleyway. Next, two armored security vans. These come to rapid halts just past the headquarters building. An SDF heavy weapons team and a GSG a.s.sault squad immediately a.s.sume positions flanking the vans. Then come two Toyota Elite limos and the Chairman's Mitsubishi Nigthsky armored limousine. The doors of the limos remain closed until the trailing vehicles of the motorcade, more vans, more cars, have taken up screening positions inside the alley. The limo doors remain closed till more SDF and GSG teams have a.s.sumed their positions. They remain closed till Machiko has moved her eyes around one last time, till she breathes and settles her spirit and moves to the Chairman's limo.

The doors of the Toyota limos spring open. More GSG emerge. Machiko raps a knuckle three times against the rear door of the Chairman's limo. The door on the other side of the limo from where she stands immediately swings open. Ryokai climbs out. As he straightens, Machiko opens the door before her and out steps Gongoro. The entire arrival has been ch.o.r.eographed to keep an a.s.sa.s.sin guessing, to perhaps bait a killer into attacking prematurely. It would be a foolish exercise in futility against some of the more devastating weapons available in the plex, but such weapons are rarely used. Mortars and missiles do no one any good. The far more likely threat comes in the form of a lone a.s.sa.s.sin, who, with gun or sword or bomb, is willing to die if death will yield success.

"Interrogative, report," Machiko says into her headset.

"All stations report clear," Captain Oseki reports from the command center.

Machiko draws the limo door open fully and out step the Chairman's secretary and his aide, then Ohana-san and other of the Chairman's close advisors, and then finally the Chairman himself. Machiko and Gongoro position themselves to screen Honjowara-sama from either end of the alley. He is further protected by the twelve GSG today a.s.signed to the body detail.

The Chairman glances quickly around, but strides directly to the rear of the headquarters building and proceeds inside, closely guarded by Ryokai and the rest of the body detail.

Machiko breathes deeply. The potential for disaster will haunt her throughout the day to come, of this she is certain, but at least the first step has been made without incident. They have gotten the Chairman here alive. Now they must keep him that way.

Next on the schedule is a meeting in the fourth-floor conference room. The Young Dragons of the Bergen Street Youth a.s.sociation, in their black suits and red blouses, serve a light breakfast. The atmosphere is formal and tense. All the senior leaders of the clan are in attendance: the shatei, or younger brothers, the wakashira-hosa, or directors, the sanro-kai, or counselors. The bosses and a.s.sistant bosses and special consultants or advisors. Some hold official positions within Nagato Corporation and some do not, but the point is of no importance. These are the men and women who make the decisions. They set policy and issue the orders. And here for the first time Machiko must stand just to the rear of the Chairman's right as the acting senior of the Guard. Here, she must present herself as capable of leading the Guard and keeping the Chairman safe. It is a provocative experience, a challenge to her both as a warrior and as a woman, to keep spirit settled and mind and body focused. Those of the leaders who were not present at earlier meetings, who are only now learning the fullest details of what has occurred, ask many questions, and several of them direct questions at Machiko herself.

At some length, Honjowara-sama declares, "Machiko-san was attacked while she slept. Did you not hear that she killed the a.s.sa.s.sin? Do you see a mark anywhere on her person? What other proof do you require of a warrior's ability?"

The Chairman's tone, his expression and att.i.tude, settle the issue.

The meeting ends; another begins. This time in the smaller meeting room on the third floor. A less formal gathering of underbosses and district executives selected for the rare honor of a personal meeting with the Chairman. In terms of the forces they each command and the financial power each of them wields, they are not without significance. But as the Chairman himself has said, they are the roots from which the tree of Nagato Combine has grown, and so must never be undervalued. Over the years, many district executives have risen to positions of importance both within the Honjowara-gumi and Nagato Corporation. Many of their children have received full university scholarships and serve in the clan in many valuable capacities. They are hard-working and very loyal and always on the watch for likely recruits. They are, as well, a crucial source of intelligence concerning not only events in the megaplex, but rumored happenings affecting the globe.

Few questions are raised. The talk centers around specifics. The Chairman impresses the gathering with his command of even the most modest of clan endeavors. His words appear designed to generate enthusiasm. He concludes by presenting various awards.

As he exits, a pair of Nagato security officers enter to conduct routine interviews regarding district activities. Machiko again feels the conflict between duty and emotion. She lingers several moments. She hears talk about the activities of competing interests, including Triads, specifically the Large Circle League, but nothing about a.s.sa.s.sins, or the likelihood of further attacks against Nagato Combine.

She catches up with the Chairman on the second floor. A meeting with a delegation of business persons, primarily mizu shobai, people of the "water business," bars, restaurants, and nightclubs. A few of these persons have shady or questionable reputations, so, in addition to the body detail, Machiko again stations herself almost directly at the Chairman's right and remains there throughout the meeting, focusing on the questionable individuals exclusively. None more than glance at her. More than a glance at her or any of the GSG in these circ.u.mstances would be impolite, as well as suggestive of sinister intent.

As the Chairman departs, Machiko approaches the owner of a successful string of nightclubs, a frequent guest at the Chairman's Open House, for he is a man with connections and influence on both sides of the borders of Little Asia.

Her inquiries gain her nothing.

Perhaps she is a fool to waste time asking questions. The Warrior's Way is death, not words. She struggles against feelings of frustration. She has little experience in gathering useful intelligence. Perhaps she merely gives exercise to her own arrogance in hoping to discover the truth of the threat facing the clan.

She pursues the Chairman to the ground floor. He will now meet with some of the ordinary working people of the headquarters district. Several have already been admitted to the lobby. They are treated as greatly honored guests. They are admitted one or two at a time to the western-style sitting room near the lobby. They are met at the doorway of the room by the geisha of Madame Fujitomi, proprietor of the Willow Pond Teahouse, the oldest, most distinguished teahouse in Little Asia. Two of these magnificent geisha, in traditional regalia, kneel and then bow their heads to the floor while offering words of greeting. Two others bring gifts, beautiful small bouquets, and small booklets bound in black synthleather. Each of the booklets contains a formal portrait of the Chairman and an inspiring message scripted by a master of traditional calligraphy.

The geisha then usher the guests forward. The Chairman himself invites them to occupy one of the pair of sofas situated to the left and right of his own sofa unit. The geisha serve tea. By then, many of the guests appear rather fl.u.s.tered, unsure what to say or how to proceed. In such cases, Honjowara-sama smiles. He smiles paternally and asks quiet questions. Always he inquires about his guests' lives, their living conditions, their jobs, their families. Have they any complaints? any suggestions? Perhaps some member of their family is experiencing difficulties. Perhaps the clan can help.

The Chairman's manner is such that most people quickly gain confidence and say what is on their minds, though always with great reverence.

Machiko's concentration is disrupted by a beep from her headset, then Gongoro's voice, saying, "Machiko, Checkpoint Zero. An old man is causing a disturbance."