been made after the breakup of the Superkids project, the woman who resulted would be twenty-two years old, at most. Her telomeres would be appreciably longer than Alma's.
The more Alma thought about it, the more she was convinced it had been one of her batch mates who had infiltrated PCI and extracted Gray Squirrel. Spitting on the PCI drone was no mere gesture of defiance. Given the precision the woman had shown in carrying out the extraction, the gesture had to have been a deliberate attempt to frame Alma. Whoever the shadowrunner was, her motivation was personal.
Which, once again, didn't make sense. Alma and her batch mates had been closer than siblings: they'd loved one another. There had been the usual rivalry and petty spats, but Alma couldn't remember a single significant fight in all of the eight years they'd been together. Not one.
Certainly not one that would cause someone to hold a grudge for twenty-two years.
Alma cleared her throat. "We're not the only Superkids in Vancouver," she said, choosing her words carefully. "There's another one of us here from the Batch Alpha: one of the girls. She's been seen around town by people who said she looked enough like me to be my twin. It wouldn't be Aimee or Agatha, would it?"
Ajax shook his head. "Aimee's in space with Zurich-Orbital, and Agatha's on active duty with her unit. She hasn't left the German Alliance in years."
"And Aella—how certain is Ahmed that she's dead?"
"The address he tracked down for her in Chicago was at ground zero. I doubt that she made it."
"Whoever this other Superkid is, I need to find her," Alma continued. "I need to speak to her about something. It's a . . . PCI security matter that I can't tell you much about."
She'd almost forgotten how mentally agile and perceptive another Superkid could be: Ajax immediately scanned between the lines. The conclusion he reached, however, was the wrong one.
"You want her to double for you while you go undercover," he guessed, his blue eyes glowing mischievously. "That's what you meant when you said you were 'on leave' from your job at PCI."
Alma decided to go with it. "That's right. I'd use Aimee or Agatha, since you're in touch with them—but it doesn't sound as if they're available right now. I thought, instead, that you could help me to track down the Superkid who's been spotted here in town. It could be Abby, or Akiko—or even Aella, if she somehow survived Chicago. Whichever one of us she is, I need to find her ASAP."
Ajax had picked up on her sense of urgency; he had already risen and was walking toward his telecom. "I'll get in touch with Ahmed for you," he said, picking up the telecom's interface cable. "He's an expert when it comes to surfing the Matrix; when I talked to him a month ago, he said he might have a lead on another one of us. If anyone can find out who your Vancouver 'twin' is, it's him."
Alma forced herself to wait patiently while Ajax slotted the telecom cable into the port in his left temple and contacted Ahmed via the Matrix. When he unplugged the jack at the end of their silent conversation, Ajax looked shaken. He sat down and poured himself another sake and then drained it.
"Ahmed's got the goods, all right," he said. "He managed to track down Akiko. It took him awhile; she changed her name to Jacqueline Boothby. She's in the Confederated American States, in a
Texas
prison. She's on death row."
"How long has she been there?" Alma asked. When Ajax gave her a strange look, Alma realized that it had been an odd question. But he answered just the same: "She's been in prison for two years—throughout numerous appeals. She's due to be executed three days from now, on the twenty-seventh."
Alma nodded. Assuming that Aella really was dead, that left only one of the girls from Batch Alpha unaccounted for: Abby.
"What crime was Akiko charged with?" she asked.
"First-degree murder. She slashed the throat of a man who was convicted of raping her, six years ago. The day
The more Alma thought about it, the more she was convinced it had been one of her batch mates who had infiltrated PCI and extracted Gray Squirrel. Spitting on the PCI drone was no mere gesture of defiance. Given the precision the woman had shown in carrying out the extraction, the gesture had to have been a deliberate attempt to frame Alma. Whoever the shadowrunner was, her motivation was personal.
Which, once again, didn't make sense. Alma and her batch mates had been closer than siblings: they'd loved one another. There had been the usual rivalry and petty spats, but Alma couldn't remember a single significant fight in all of the eight years they'd been together. Not one.
Certainly not one that would cause someone to hold a grudge for twenty-two years.
Alma cleared her throat. "We're not the only Superkids in Vancouver," she said, choosing her words carefully. "There's another one of us here from the Batch Alpha: one of the girls. She's been seen around town by people who said she looked enough like me to be my twin. It wouldn't be Aimee or Agatha, would it?"
Ajax shook his head. "Aimee's in space with Zurich-Orbital, and Agatha's on active duty with her unit. She hasn't left the German Alliance in years."
"And Aella—how certain is Ahmed that she's dead?"
"The address he tracked down for her in Chicago was at ground zero. I doubt that she made it."
"Whoever this other Superkid is, I need to find her," Alma continued. "I need to speak to her about something. It's a . . . PCI security matter that I can't tell you much about."
She'd almost forgotten how mentally agile and perceptive another Superkid could be: Ajax immediately scanned between the lines. The conclusion he reached, however, was the wrong one.
"You want her to double for you while you go undercover," he guessed, his blue eyes glowing mischievously. "That's what you meant when you said you were 'on leave' from your job at PCI."
Alma decided to go with it. "That's right. I'd use Aimee or Agatha, since you're in touch with them—but it doesn't sound as if they're available right now. I thought, instead, that you could help me to track down the Superkid who's been spotted here in town. It could be Abby, or Akiko—or even Aella, if she somehow survived Chicago. Whichever one of us she is, I need to find her ASAP."
Ajax had picked up on her sense of urgency; he had already risen and was walking toward his telecom. "I'll get in touch with Ahmed for you," he said, picking up the telecom's interface cable. "He's an expert when it comes to surfing the Matrix; when I talked to him a month ago, he said he might have a lead on another one of us. If anyone can find out who your Vancouver 'twin' is, it's him."
Alma forced herself to wait patiently while Ajax slotted the telecom cable into the port in his left temple and contacted Ahmed via the Matrix. When he unplugged the jack at the end of their silent conversation, Ajax looked shaken. He sat down and poured himself another sake and then drained it.
"Ahmed's got the goods, all right," he said. "He managed to track down Akiko. It took him awhile; she changed her name to Jacqueline Boothby. She's in the Confederated American States, in a
Texas
prison. She's on death row."
"How long has she been there?" Alma asked. When Ajax gave her a strange look, Alma realized that it had been an odd question. But he answered just the same: "She's been in prison for two years—throughout numerous appeals. She's due to be executed three days from now, on the twenty-seventh."
Alma nodded. Assuming that Aella really was dead, that left only one of the girls from Batch Alpha unaccounted for: Abby.
"What crime was Akiko charged with?" she asked.
"First-degree murder. She slashed the throat of a man who was convicted of raping her, six years ago. The day
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