Black Man / Thirteen

—and the ships out at anchor on the silent swell, waiting.

CHAPTER 24

They kept him waiting at reception. Not entirely an unpleasant experience; like a lot of Rim States v-formats, the Human Cost Foundation’s site was subtly peopled with short-loop secondary ’faces, hardwired into the system to provide the environs with what product brochure enthusiasm liked to call a more authentic feel. Sitting across from him in the waiting area, a svelte young woman in a short business skirt crossed one long thigh over the other and gave him a friendly smile.

“Do you work for the foundation?” she asked.

“Uh, no. My brother does.”

“You’re here to see him?”

“Yes.” The format sculpters had done their work well. He felt positively rude stopping on the dry monosyllable. “We don’t see each other that much these days.”

“You’re not local then?”

“No. Wiring in from New York.”

“Oh, that is a long way. So how do you like it out there?”

“It isn’t out there for me, it’s home. We both grew up in the city. My brother’s the one who moved.” Tiny flicker of sibling rivalry riding a base of Manhattan exceptionalism, and the tiny adrenal shock as he recognized both. He began to see how the interface psychiatry he’d always sneered at might work quite well after all.

“So, uh.” The question rose to his lips; he tasted its idiocy but weariness let it through anyway, part challenge, part deflection from more talk about Jeff. “Where are you from?”

She smiled again. “That’s almost a metaphysical question, isn’t it. I suppose I’d have to say I’m from Jakarta. Conceptually, anyway. Have you ever been there?”

“Couple of times, wiring in. Not for real.”

“You should go. It’s beautiful now the nanobuild is finished. Best to try to see it in…”

And so on, effortlessly evading any conversational currents that might bring them up too hard against the fact of what she was. He guessed that this must be how high-class prostitution worked as well, but he was too tired to really care. He let go, let himself be lulled by the erudite flow of what she knew, the participative dynamic she ran the conversation on, the stocking-sheathed geometry of her elegantly crossed legs. There seemed to be a reactive subroutine that measured how much he wanted to talk and adjusted the response output accordingly. He found, oddly enough, that he wanted to talk quite a lot.

He wasn’t aware of Jeff approaching until his brother stood almost over him, smiling wearily.

“Okay.” He fumbled to his feet, recovered himself. “At last.”

“Yeah, sorry. Whole boatload of washups came in from Wenzhou a couple of days ago, it’s going to put us way over budget for the quarter. Been negotiating with the legislature all fucking day.” He nodded at the still-seated woman. “I see you’ve met Sharleen.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Lovely, isn’t she. You know, sometimes I’ll come out here and talk to her just for the fun of it.”

Norton looked at the ’face. She smiled up at the two of them, head lifted, expression gone very slightly vacant, as if what they were saying was birdsong, or a played segment of some symphony she liked.

“Need to talk to you,” he said uncomfortably.

“Sure.” Jeff Norton gestured. “Come on through. Bye, Sharleen.”

“Good-bye.”

She smiled over her shoulder as they left, then swiveled and sat immobile and silent as they passed out of trigger range. Jeff led him past the reception island and down a truncated corridor with a watercooler at the end. Half a dozen steps along, the passageway grayed out around them and became Jeff’s office. It was pretty much as Norton remembered the actual suite from a visit a couple of years back, a few décor differences in the pastel shades of the walls and fittings, maybe one or two ornaments on shelves that he didn’t recall. A photo of Megan on the desk. He drew a compressed breath and seated himself on the right-angled sofa facing the window and the skyline view of Golden Gate Park. His brother leaned across the desk and punched something out on the deck.

“So?”

“I need some more advice. You heard about Ortiz?”

“No.” Jeff leaned against the side of his desk. “What’s he up to, more UN handholding tours?”

“He’s been shot, Jeff.”

“Shot?”

“Yeah. It’s all over the feeds. Where have you been? I thought you’d know. I gave a COLIN press conference all about it yesterday afternoon.”

Jeff sighed. Shook his head as if it weren’t working properly. He crossed to the adjacent angle of the sofa and collapsed into it.

“Christ, I’m tired,” he muttered. “Been on this Wenzhou thing for the last day and a half solid. I didn’t even go home from the office last night. Been in virtual most of this morning. Is he still alive?”

“Yeah, holding up. They’ve got him wired into intensive-care life support over at Weill Cornell. Medical n-dji

“Can he talk?”

“Not yet. They’re going to patch him into a v-format once he regains consciousness, but that might be awhile.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Jeff gave him a haggard look. “So what’s this got to do with me? What do you need?”

“For Ortiz, nothing. I don’t think you could help right now anyway. Like I said, he’s not even conscious. They’ve got family and close friends at the hospital but—”

His brother gave him the corner of a smile. “Yeah, I know. Not my world anymore. Blew my chance at the Union power game, didn’t I.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Ran west and ended up a bleeding-heart charity chump.”

Norton gestured impatiently. “That’s not what this is about. I want to talk to you about Marsalis. You know, the thirteen we levered out of South Florida State?”

“Oh. Right.” Jeff rubbed at his face. “So how’s that working out?”

Norton hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“You got problems with him?”

“I don’t…” He lifted his hands. “Look, the guy signed up okay. You were right about that much.”

“What, that he’d bite your hand off for the chance to get out of a Jesusland jail?” Jeff shrugged. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Yeah, well I guess I owe you for the suggestion. And I’ve got to say, he lives up to the hype. He was there when they tried to hit Ortiz, and it looks like this guy’s the only reason Ortiz is still breathing. He took out two of the three shooters and chased the third one off. Unarmed. You believe that?”

“Yes,” said Jeff shortly. “I do believe that. I told you, these guys are fucking terrifying. So what’s the problem?”

Norton looked at his hands. He hesitated again, then shook his head irritably and raised his eyes to meet his brother’s curious gaze.

“You remember I told you I’ve got a partner now? Ex-NYPD detective, a woman?”

“Who you want to get horizontal with, but won’t admit it. Yeah, I remember.”

“Yeah, well, there’s something I didn’t tell you about her. She had a relationship with a renegade thirteen a few years back. Didn’t work out, and there were some, uh, complications.”

Jeff raised his brows. “Uh-oh.”

“Yeah. I didn’t give it much thought, even when we hired this guy.”

“Bullshit.”

Norton sighed. “Okay, I gave it some thought. But you know, I figured, she’s tough, she’s smart, she’s got a handle on the situation. Nothing to worry about.”

“Sure.” Jeff leaned forward. “So what are you worrying about?”

Norton stared around the office miserably. “I don’t know.” He threw up his arms. “I don’t know, I don’t fucking know.”

His brother smiled, sighed.

“You ever chew coca leaves, Tom?”

Norton blinked. “Coca leaves?”

“Yeah.”

“What has that got—”

“I’m trying to help here. Just answer the question. You ever chew coca leaves?”

“Of course I have. Every time we have to go down to the prep camps for a Marstech swoop, they give us a big bag at the airport and recommend it for the altitude. Tastes like shit. So what has that got to do with—”