Upgrade by Richard Parry Page A

at his mouth.   “Bonus round?”
    “Sure.   You came here, looking for someone.”
    Mason nodded.   “That’s a fair guess.   It’s 4:30 in the morning.   Although I might have come in just to get out of the rain.”
    “I heard you drive up.”   She tapped some ash directly onto the bar.   “So you came to see someone.”
    “Ok.”   Mason sipped his drink again.   “I came to see someone.   I figure you’re here so you won’t see someone.”
    “Very perceptive,” she said.   “And yet, here you are.”
    He smiled again.   “It’s not me.”
    “It’s not an exclusive club,” she said.   “I could not want to see you and someone else.”   But she was smiling now, looking down at her hands.
    “Sounds like you’ve got a list.”
    “I’ve got a list,” she agreed.   “Anyway.   He’s not here.”
    “The guy you don’t want to see?”
    “No.   The guy you want to see.”   She frowned.   “This is more confusing after a few drinks than I thought it’d be.”
    “How do you know it’s not you?”   Mason watched her.
    She glanced at him again, then turned back to the mirror.   “It’s not me.   I’m the bonus round.   And you’re so not my type.”
    “I should be offended.”   Mason tapped his own Treasurer against the bar.   “But I’m not.   Name’s Mason.”
    Those eyes watched him, the black lipstick pulling into an answering grin.   “Good to meet you, Mason.   He’s not here.”
    “You said that before.   Who’s not here?”
    “Bernie.”
    “Ah.”   Mason refilled his glass, then tipped the bottle towards her.
    She nodded, snagging it with a free hand, taking another pull.   “‘Ah,’ for sure.”
    “How do you know I’m here for Bernie?”
    “Because he’s an asshole.”
    “Fair enough.”   Mason thought that one through.   “You work for him though, right?”
    “Everyone’s boss is an asshole.”
    “Mine’s not.”
    “Yeah.   Yeah he is.”   She looked at him again briefly.   “Or you’re the luckiest man in the world.”
    “Mason.”   Carter sounded bored.   “She’s an illegal, Mason.”
    “What?   Jesus, Carter.   You’re like the world’s giant cock-blocking overlord, aren’t you?”
    “Just thought you should know.   I get three heat signatures in the room, and you’re the only one with an uplink.”
    “Why don’t you take the rest of the night off?”   Mason swirled the liquor in his glass.   “Jesus.”
    “What?”   She looked at him, her tongue licking black lipstick.   “You don’t look the religious type.”
    “It’s — never mind.”   Mason stood up.   “Hey.   You didn’t tell me your—”
    A door at the back of the room kicked open, and a man strode in.   He was tall and thin, black hair streaming behind him.   He stopped dead when he saw Mason.   Mason’s optics adjusted for the gloom, picking out the widening of the man’s eyes.   Surprised, are you?
    “Who the hell are you?”   The man started forward again, his long legs taking him to the bar.   “We’re closed, asshole.”
    Mason put his hand out.   “Mason Floyd.”   He tried on a smile to match it.   “I’m an acquisitions specialist.”
    The man ignored Mason’s hand.   “Well you can acquire yourself a way out of here.   I said we’re closed.”
    Mason’s HUD was already working through a biometrics match, but neither of these two came up on the search.   Good news, neither of them was Bernie Eckers.   He put his hand back at his side.   “Sure.   Say, have you seen—”
    “We haven’t seen anyone.   Fuck off, company man.   Your kind aren’t welcome around here.”   The newcomer grabbed the woman’s arm.   “Come on, babe.   Let’s go.”
    She looked at the hand on her arm, then at her cigarette.   Then she looked back at Mason.   “It was good to meet you, Mason.”
    “Yeah.”   He nodded at her.   “I didn’t catch your name.”
    “No.   You didn’t.”