Electric Church

I looked at her and then down at my hands, dirty and covered in scabs, some of which had been torn off and leaked blood wearily. “I’ve got an idea.”

Ta

“The bad news is, it isn’t something Kieth can wiggle his nose at and make happen with geek power and a few batteries.”

Ta

“-good news?” Milton finished.

I paused for a second or two. “Not really.”

Ta

I sighed. “Well, to start with, we’re going to need some stuff.”

XXIV

MAKING EVERYONE SEEM FADED AND WATERY

I wasn’t used to wearing dark glasses; anything that reduced a Gu

“Calm down,” Ca

Gatz didn’t say anything. After a moment Orel leaned in close to me.

“I have a strong urge to pinch your friend, just to make sure he still has a pulse.”

“Be careful,” I replied easily. “He’s getting better every day. One of these days he’ll pop a vessel in your brain from across the room.”

Orel chuckled. “Your bunch is entertaining, Cates, I’ll give you that.” He sighed, scratching behind his ear. “This is a lunatic’s laundry list. You’re not going to give me a hint?”

I shook my head. “Need-to-know basis, Mr. Orel.”

He squinted down at the list again. “You’re not going to tell me what we need,” he paused, licking a finger, “tetrodotoxin for? Not to mention what the fuck it is and where we’re going to get it.”

We ended up on a long wooden bench on the improbably named Pudding Lane that appeared to have been launched from a burned-out church during one set of riots or another. The bench was surprisingly unscathed, just sitting on the side of the street, remaining undisturbed by one of those twists of human nature that gave me little bursts of hope from time to time. The sun shone down weakly, making everyone seem faded and watery.

“It’s a neurotoxin,” Gatz said, his voice scratched and acid-pocked.

Orel raised an eyebrow and looked from Gatz to me. “Why, Cates, I swear I can’t see your lips move or your hand up his ass. All right. We’re shopping for a neurotoxin, digital video equipment, and, still, a gun for Mr. Cates. Meanwhile, the other members of Team Cates are out on their own mysterious shopping excursions, leaving that cocksucking Kieth in sole possession of the Monk. I’m begi

“Too late,” I grunted. “Anyway, here’s our man.”

Jerry Materiel had been watching us from a second-floor window across the street for some time. I’d let him have his recon; hell, I’d be nervous, too. Man disappears in the middle of a transaction, turns out to be the most famous crook in the System at the moment, then contacts you out of the blue to make another large transaction, then shows up with a strange face. I’d sit tight a while, too, see if anything shook free. I noted Materiel’s boys from the Dole Line stationed here and there on the street, trying to look casual and uninterested. Crowds of people wandered by, aimless and cranky, and if I hadn’t seen Materiel’s boys before they might’ve blended in.

That was okay, too. I liked a man who took precautions, and anyone who could afford retainers was obviously doing well.

Jerry didn’t emerge from the building he’d been watching from; I smiled in approval as he walked out of the one next door, smiling, looking for all the world like a man without enemies walking free and easy in the weak sun, ready to do business.

“Mr. Cates,” he said, proffering a nondescript paper bag. “You absented yersef before I coul’ deliver the deliverables, including a set o’ blues I think you’ll find intrestin’.”

I took the bag cautiously and found, to my surprise, my lost gun order gleaming in its depths, along with a tattered set of schematics-paper, pre-Unification, looking ancient and delicate. Kieth could digitize them in no time. While I made a show of inspecting its contents, Jerry inspected Ca

“Excellent,” I said, closing the bag and tucking it away. “Much appreciated, Mr. Materiel. We’ve got some more business for you, if you’re up for it.”

He studied Orel for another second or two, and then turned back to me, instantly breaking into a wide smile. “M’bizness, Mr. Cates? Certainly. What can ol’ Jerry git f’you now?”

I glanced at Orel, and with a smirk he handed the slip of paper over to Jerry. On my other side, Gatz appeared to be sound asleep. Or dead.

Materiel’s smile faded as he read through the list. “This is an intrestin’ recipe, Mr. Cates. Damn dif’cult, too. This fir’ part, fer example…”

I let my mind wander as he launched into the usual fence bullshit: how hard everything was going to be to procure, how hot a commodity I was, and how he wasn’t even sure it was wise to work with me, all leading up to the inevitable conclusion that this was going to cost me extra. I’d bought guns and other things off the black market a thousand times, and half the time it was a simple transaction, and the other half it was like being married to the fucking fence.

Something strange was going on in the street.

This stretch of city had been hit pretty bad in the Riots, but in a selective way. A lot of buildings were scorched and crumbling, left to rot these last fifteen or twenty years, but some of them were untouched, pristine. Rubble was piled, as far as I could see, exactly where it had settled twenty years before. Some of the empty lots had sprouted into wild jungles, ignored for decades. Men and women of a familiar type-sallow, ski

And, of course, the Monks.

They worked the street in gangs-I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it or not, but I thought there were more of them in one place than I’d ever seen before. I thought of Dick Marin telling me that the whole world would be Monked in a few years. On each corner one of the metal bastards was standing on a box, arms raised, preaching the Mulqer Codex. They spoke without pause or hesitation, all of it programmed in, automatic. Teams of the things moved up and down the street, smiling their fake smiles, leaving most of the people alone but pausing here and there to accost anyone who looked particularly hopeless and miserable, gently urging them to hand over their humanity for a chance at salvation. A lot of the hardcases on the street shut up and watched carefully when the Monks approached, but glowered menacingly after them when they passed. When the Monks passed near us, I looked down at the pavement. I was worried they would scan my face and come after me. The Electric Church had to know I was in London, but there was no margin in letting them know exactly where I was.