Re-Coil - J.T. Nicholas Page 0,72

of any criminal wrongdoing, but based on current system law, you would have a cause of action against Genetechnic should anything untoward befall your global backups. There is also a provision consistent with the terms Ms. Chan asked to be added with respect to physical, offsite backups.

“Shay?” I asked.

“Looks good to me, Carter. I don’t trust Genetechnic as far as I can throw it. On Jupiter. But so long as we register these contracts with a third party, I don’t know how we can get any safer.” She threw a glare at the assassin. “You’re going to have to release me before we sign anything. And put the gun away.”

“Indeed,” the man replied urbanely. “We cannot have anything colored with duress, can we?” Without any more fanfare, he simply holstered his weapon and stepped away from Shay. In that instant, I had a clear shot. We hadn’t agreed to anything, hadn’t signed anything. Contractually, we were in the clear. Legally, except for the whole breaking and entering and holding Ingles at gunpoint, we could even make a good case for self-defense. I could have taken the shot. The small, knowing smile on the assassin’s face told me that he knew I could take the shot.

I didn’t.

What use would it have been? There was no doubt in my mind that the assassin’s backup, unlike my own, was nice and safe and probably ready to be dropped into a new coil the second his core stopped registering on the Net. He would have been back on our trail in a day or two, tops. And a lot less polite about it. No. This was our chance to be free of Genetechnic. Provided we could trust them. Or, barring that, at least hide behind the thin shield of the contract long enough to find a measure of safety.

Sarah, sign the contract.

Done, my agent replied.

Shay must have signed as well, because the assassin nodded briskly. “Excellent,” he said. “I’ve received confirmation from both of you.” He took a few steps deeper into the room, moving away from us and toward the bar. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

I realized I was still holding my Gauss pistol and eased it into its holster. I was about to say something to Shay when I caught a blur of motion out of the corner of my vision. Two shots rang out, cracking like thunder. Sarah automatically overrode my hearing, dampening the sound and protecting me from the possible damage. My pistol appeared back in my hand as I whirled around, but I was too late. The assassin was standing over the corpse of Ingles, the executive’s discarded chemical burner in his hand. The Genetechnic Director of Innovations had two ragged holes in his face. The placement was odd, but intentional. I was no forensics expert, but I was willing to bet that the path of those bullets would intersect with Ingles’ core.

“Why?” I demanded, once more leveling the Gauss pistol at the assassin. “He didn’t tell us anything that you didn’t confirm five minutes later.”

“Ah,” the assassin replied. “But I was authorized to give you that information. Ingles was not. Management had already decided that he needed to be removed until such time as the current crisis is over. I assure you, his backup is fine.” He threw a contemptuous look to the neglected coil. “This will hardly be the first time he’s had to take time out because of his actions. He’ll have a new coil. In due course.”

I didn’t like it. I could tell from the slightly nauseated frown on Shay’s face as she stared at the corpse that she didn’t like it, either. But what choice did we have? I holstered up again. “Fine. Just fucking great. What now?” I realized I still had no idea what the assassin’s name was. “What do we call you?”

“Now, Mr. Langston? Now we get ready to assault a passenger liner tumbling through space, full of an unknown quantity and quality of enemies.” A smile—the first honest smile I’d seen from him—split his face. The asshole was actually looking forward to this. “And you can call me Korben.”

Korben was as good as his word. He escorted us through the streets of Pallah and his entire attitude seemed to have changed. Gone was the urbane but uncaring assassin who had just shot a man in the face. In his place was a charismatic and almost gregarious tour guide. “If you look over there,” he said, pointing to a