parts of his time with Fist – the sense of vastly more efficient systems grafted on to his own mind, working both with and beyond it to achieve the impossible.
[Getting any info on him?] he asked.
[Some basics. He’s discreet, but not discreet enough. The meat’ll be deeper in. I need to get up close to one of his servers. Second door on the left.]
Fist bounced ahead of Jack as they walked up the corridor. The door was decorated with a particularly complex, tiger-shaped glyph. It was unlocked. Jack tiptoed through, then carefully shut it behind him. All was pitch-black.
[ Right,] said Fist.
And then the lights came on.
Akhmatov was sat behind a large stone desk. He was dressed in a smart white suit. His pale face hovered beneath grey-black hair. There was a tightly trimmed moustache at its centre, sitting above precise, fussy lips. His eyes were masked by round black lenses. He was lighting a cigarette. There were men dressed in black, two to his left, one to his right, and one behind. All four had the same face. There was a leather armchair in front of the desk. The rest of the room was empty.
‘I always thought, Jack,’ said Akhmatov, exhaling smoke, ‘that you had a little more style than this. But then, you have been away from us for rather a long time. And your little man is so easy to fool.’
[Shit,] said Fist. [ This fucking cage.]
Chapter 11
‘All these years,’ said Akhmatov. ‘And we finally meet.’
[ Fist,] Jack whispered, [what happened?]
[ He spoofed me. I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A FUCKING STUPID IDEA !]
‘Your little man is less effective than he boasts,’ said Akhmatov. He contemplated the tip of his cigarette for a moment. ‘I’ve force-opened some of your weave channels. The cageware should stop me from doing that, but it seems that somebody’s cut a little hole from inside. Naughty naughty!’
[ He’s overloaded my weaveports,] said Fist. [ The cage is reading it as a potential hack, so I can’t manifest. I’m all locked down, you’re on your own. Run! Don’t let him hurt you!]
[ Bouncers’d be on us straightaway.]
Akhmatov gestured, the cigarette trailing smoke in the air. ‘But where are my manners? You should sit.’
An attendant appeared at Jack’s side and waved him towards the armchair. There was no other choice. Jack let himself subside into it. The faded leather was soft and welcoming. It sighed as Jack sat back, exhaling a fusty reek of cigars and privilege.
‘It’s really just plastic,’ smiled Akhmatov. ‘Rather well programmed, isn’t it?’ The dark glasses gave him the look of an insect.
‘What do you want, Akhmatov?’ said Jack, barely keeping his voice steady.
‘Your return has caused, let us say, quite the stir. In circles that I move in, at least. In fact, I was warned not to receive you. To shut you out, to let your licence run out, to let you die and your puppet take the strings.’ Akhmatov’s smile became a chuckle. ‘Of course I’ve always resented being told what to do. I think you might sympathise with that?’ He leant forward in his chair and inspected Jack. ‘No, I really don’t see it. Jack, there are entities that scare even me. You’ve slept with Grey, you know what I mean. And some of them’ – Akhmatov raised his hand and pointed at him – ‘are mortally afraid of you, and of the little cuckoo in your nest.’ He sat back. ‘No, I don’t understand it either.’
Jack realised that Akhmatov was looking at him expectantly. But there was nothing to say. He shrugged, hoping to at least display some bravado. ‘I really wouldn’t know,’ he said.
‘Still the same old ingénue . I watched you, Jack, watched you trying to draw your strings around me, back in the old days. You were very sharp. Of course I was aware of every move you took.’
Jack was at once shocked by Akhmatov’s revelation and surprised to hear real respect in his voice. Memories of the investigation shimmered through him. ‘Perhaps that’s
[Getting any info on him?] he asked.
[Some basics. He’s discreet, but not discreet enough. The meat’ll be deeper in. I need to get up close to one of his servers. Second door on the left.]
Fist bounced ahead of Jack as they walked up the corridor. The door was decorated with a particularly complex, tiger-shaped glyph. It was unlocked. Jack tiptoed through, then carefully shut it behind him. All was pitch-black.
[ Right,] said Fist.
And then the lights came on.
Akhmatov was sat behind a large stone desk. He was dressed in a smart white suit. His pale face hovered beneath grey-black hair. There was a tightly trimmed moustache at its centre, sitting above precise, fussy lips. His eyes were masked by round black lenses. He was lighting a cigarette. There were men dressed in black, two to his left, one to his right, and one behind. All four had the same face. There was a leather armchair in front of the desk. The rest of the room was empty.
‘I always thought, Jack,’ said Akhmatov, exhaling smoke, ‘that you had a little more style than this. But then, you have been away from us for rather a long time. And your little man is so easy to fool.’
[Shit,] said Fist. [ This fucking cage.]
Chapter 11
‘All these years,’ said Akhmatov. ‘And we finally meet.’
[ Fist,] Jack whispered, [what happened?]
[ He spoofed me. I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A FUCKING STUPID IDEA !]
‘Your little man is less effective than he boasts,’ said Akhmatov. He contemplated the tip of his cigarette for a moment. ‘I’ve force-opened some of your weave channels. The cageware should stop me from doing that, but it seems that somebody’s cut a little hole from inside. Naughty naughty!’
[ He’s overloaded my weaveports,] said Fist. [ The cage is reading it as a potential hack, so I can’t manifest. I’m all locked down, you’re on your own. Run! Don’t let him hurt you!]
[ Bouncers’d be on us straightaway.]
Akhmatov gestured, the cigarette trailing smoke in the air. ‘But where are my manners? You should sit.’
An attendant appeared at Jack’s side and waved him towards the armchair. There was no other choice. Jack let himself subside into it. The faded leather was soft and welcoming. It sighed as Jack sat back, exhaling a fusty reek of cigars and privilege.
‘It’s really just plastic,’ smiled Akhmatov. ‘Rather well programmed, isn’t it?’ The dark glasses gave him the look of an insect.
‘What do you want, Akhmatov?’ said Jack, barely keeping his voice steady.
‘Your return has caused, let us say, quite the stir. In circles that I move in, at least. In fact, I was warned not to receive you. To shut you out, to let your licence run out, to let you die and your puppet take the strings.’ Akhmatov’s smile became a chuckle. ‘Of course I’ve always resented being told what to do. I think you might sympathise with that?’ He leant forward in his chair and inspected Jack. ‘No, I really don’t see it. Jack, there are entities that scare even me. You’ve slept with Grey, you know what I mean. And some of them’ – Akhmatov raised his hand and pointed at him – ‘are mortally afraid of you, and of the little cuckoo in your nest.’ He sat back. ‘No, I don’t understand it either.’
Jack realised that Akhmatov was looking at him expectantly. But there was nothing to say. He shrugged, hoping to at least display some bravado. ‘I really wouldn’t know,’ he said.
‘Still the same old ingénue . I watched you, Jack, watched you trying to draw your strings around me, back in the old days. You were very sharp. Of course I was aware of every move you took.’
Jack was at once shocked by Akhmatov’s revelation and surprised to hear real respect in his voice. Memories of the investigation shimmered through him. ‘Perhaps that’s
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