Judas Unchained

The Agent smiled and went over to the wall. A long block of granite swung out silently to reveal a brightly lit drinks cabinet. “Let’s see. We won’t bother with the Talotee wines, even though they’re all the rage. How about Impiricus-blue, a local copy, but in my humble opinion better than the original.”

“Hit me.”

The Agent made a show of pouring the thick purple liqueur into a chilled cut-crystal shot glass. “And one for me.” He returned to the desk and slid the shot glass over to Adam. “Salut.”

“Salut.” Adam drained it in a single gulp. A sensation like cold flame burned down his gullet. “Woho, boy,” he grunted, there were tears in his eyes. “Good stuff.” His voice was harsh, as if he’d come down with flu.

“I knew you’d like that. You have class, which most of my customers are sadly lacking. I deal with so many gangsters; bigger guns and nastier viruses are all they know. But you: I was most proud to see the names which came up in court after the attack on the Second Chance, knowing I had provided most of them. Now that was a truly stylish operation, conducted with verve. There are so few of those mounted these days.”

“The ship survived, though.”

“Alas, yes. But to have dreamed the dream is to have flown above the mountains so high in all but deed.”

“Keats?”

“Manby. So now, what can I do for you?” the Agent asked.

“I need some assistance for a new project I’m putting together.”

“Of course.”

“Mostly blunt end troops,” Adam told his e-butler to transfer the list file to the Agent’s desktop array.

“No technical specialists? That’s a shame. I’ll certainly see what I can do to find you the requisite people. I should tell you half of my B-list is currently serving with the navy behind enemy lines. Not all of them were taken out of suspension, either; a lot of them volunteered. It’s the kind of job which appeals to their more base instinct. They’ll come back covered in glory and medals determined to be upright citizens, then in a couple of years they’ll be hammering down my door for a job. In the meantime, I’m embarrassed by such a poor inventory. Is there any way you could delay your project?”

“Not indefinitely, no. If it’s question of money…?”

The Agent looked genuinely aghast. “Good Lord, no. I’ll probably wind up waiving my commission for you. I do value the challenges you’ve given me over the years, and you bring a much appreciated amount of business my way. I’m confident I can rise to the occasion once more. Professional pride and all that.”

“I see.” Adam smiled his best false smile, feeling his abused facial skin distend. It was always about money with the Agent; criminals were the worst capitalists of all. “I will be offering the usual re-life insurance bond in the event of premature bodyloss.”

“That’s good to hear. Right now, the Commonwealth clinics are overflowing with re-life procedure requests from the families of bodyloss victims from the Lost23. The swine are charging extortionate fees. Seller’s market, I’m afraid.”

“After the revolution we’ll put them against the wall and shoot them, eh?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be happy to supply the firing squads free of charge. Until then—”

“Until then, put my list together and send me the bill. There’s a onetime address code in the file.”

“Did you have a time frame in mind?”

“You’ve got one week.” Adam didn’t care how big a disadvantage that put him at. “I will pay a handsome bonus for delivery.”

The Agent raised his eyebrows. “I always welcome incentives. However, given the state of the Commonwealth right now, that might be a little difficult.”

“One week.”

“I see you’re not going to be moved. Very well. To aspire nobly is its own reward. I won’t let you down.” He leaned forward abruptly, and held his hand out.

Adam shook, trying not to let the sneer of disgust appear on his face.

“Excellent.” The Agent walked back to the open drinks cabinet and poured another two shots of Impiricus-blue. He waved a hand, and ten tall slabs of granite pivoted through ninety degrees to reveal a picture window behind. “We’re safer than most here, you know,” he said. “One rich city is easy to defend. And City Hall has spent a great deal of money upgrading our force fields on top of the navy shielding. Yet still the doubt gnaws at my soul. I am blessed to live amid such beauty as only God and nature can create.”

“What doubts?” Adam asked. He was looking past the Agent at the extraordinary vista through the window. Tridelta City shimmered in the midafternoon sunlight, a flat reclaimed island that used to be the flood zone where three rivers merged; the Logrosan, the Dongara, and the Upper Monkira, each large in their own right, united to become the impressive torrent of water that was the Lower Monkira, flowing to the ocean five hundred kilometers away.