Fade to Black by Nyx Smith Page A

as a sign of betrayal, but then L. Kahn didn't necessarily know that Thorvin had the gear to spot the drone.
    Any fragging thing was possible. Every one of the four of them in the van had at least one warrant out for them somewhere in the U.C.A.S. Cops and feds and practically every corp in the world all had riggers who could put up drones. Some of the local security companies used drones for ordinary surveillance, like night watchmen. And, like Shank said, it was definitely possible that the drone was completely unrelated to anything that mattered. There were dozens of jobs being worked at any one time within the bounds of the Newark plex. Sometimes you couldn't turn a corner without stepping into the middle of somebody's dustup.
    It just seemed too coincidental to be coincidental that a drone had shown up overhead just as they were leaving Chimpira.
    On the other hand, Thorvin had lost contact with the drone once they reached the transitway, and nothing else had happened to suggest that they were being followed. "You didn't see no cars following?"
    "Not a freaking one."
    Still what bothered Rico was the one possibility no one had mentioned: they might already be blown.
    The corporate "entity" they were supposed to penetrate to make their retrieval might already know they'd been hired for the job. That "entity" might have been watching L. Kahn and might be hunting for the four of them at this very moment.
    Preemptive op is what corp security slags called it. They'd be careful, Rico decided. Now more than ever. They'd get off the street and stay off as much as possible until the job was done. They'd check out everything two or three or four times before they started the run. They'd build in backups on top of backups in case anything went wrong. If they found even a hint of evidence that L. Kahn was playing games, they'd handle that, too.
    Four a.m., the rain started coming down. Right on schedule. First it drizzled, then it poured. In less than a minute it turned into a torrent. The corps controlling Manhattan seeded the clouds most every night in an attempt to clear the garbage out of the air. Like they said on TV/3V, the rain brought the garbage down indiscriminately, on the just and the unjust alike.
    Momentarily, the safehouse came along on the right, a three-story brick building that had been condemned a decade ago, then uncondemned. City records showed it as turned over to New Jersey Consolidated Power and Light. Piper had made it that way.
    The place was crammed in between a two-story factory and a nine-story moving and storage tower. It had two brown metal bay doors large enough to accommodate a semi and no windows at ground-level. The door on the right began rising as they approached. Thorvin had the transmit code. He drove the van across the sidewalk and right inside. The door trundled down behind them.
    The ground floor looked like a junkyard, one big room filled with mechanical parts and equipment, a pair of Scorpion motorcycles, a spare van. Thorvin called it his emergency repair shop. What he called it or how he used it mattered far less to Rico than that the rigger should have what he needed to jury-rig repairs when they were on a run.
    Rico led the group upstairs. The second floor had bedrooms, a kitchen, and the main room, which doubled as both a living room and conference room. Rico set Shank and Thorvin to clearing up the garbage lying around since God knew when, then handed Piper the datachip from L. Kahn. Piper had her axe.
    They'd stopped to pick that up. She'd scan the chip, print out a hardcopy, and they could get started with the job.
    Piper took the chip, but then slid her arms around Rico's neck and said softly, anxiously, "This one worries me, jefe."
    Rico exhaled heavily. "We just gotta be careful, chica. I think we're playing with big boys this time. Some damn megacorp."
    She nodded. "I'll get to work."
    "Good idea."
    Rico checked on supplies: food, ammunition, other gear. The devil rats in the