the way from the railway station to a basement office half way down Denmark Street. The front door of this office features an air-brushed mutt with spiral eyes. Moss, leaves and rusty guitar strings clutter the narrow space in front of the door. He plays knockety-knock, then waits.
An old man opens the door. He looks at Nulight.
"Yo, Michael," Nulight says, offering his hand.
The pair shake hands. "Come in stranger," Michael says, leading him indoors.
The Dog's office is open-plan, one huge room filled with computers, papers, CDs and such. "Been a while," Nulight remarks. "Two years?"
"Make it ten."
Nulight's eyes widen. "Buddah, that long? What you been up to?"
"Feeding my head."
Nulight nods, then pulls out a packet of minibongs and offers Michael one. "Okay, so you wanna know why I turned up?"
Michael nods. They sit down in canvas-covered easy chairs.
Nulight continues, "I need a job doing in Berlin. No blood, no mess—that's why I first thought of you—but the squad has to be good. Like, no tech footprints, right?"
Michael puffs maryjane. "You came to the right man. Peace and tranquillity is what I deal in."
Nulight chuckles. "Bancoesque. But I'm afraid ground zero is the Gesang Der Junglinge."
Michael raises his eyebrows. "That's going to cost you, Nulight." He leans forward to add, "What have you done to upset Dieter?"
Nulight replies in a cold voice, "Actually it's the other way around. And it isn't just me."
Michael relaxes into his chair. "Dieter's no pushover." He glances at Nulight. "Well, I know the perfect squad, but I'll want my cash up front."
Nulight shrugs. "I'm not playing monopoly here," he says. "The money's yours, we'll sort out the details later."
"Are you sure you want to go ahead with this? There might be consequences for you—I want to be certain that this is what you want."
"Good and bad consequences. I dig."
Michael nods. "Well, there won't be any mess, don't worry about that. I vet all my coverts. It's politics, you see?"
Nulight understands. "Peaceniks forever, and the green revolution." He grins. "Everybody knows you ain't no gangster."
Michael takes a piece of paper and writes on it.
EUFemism.
Nulight smiles. "I've heard good things about these people."
"They're quick, they're quiet. Ned Ludd would be proud of them."
...Danish pastries...
In Copenhagen, Nulight contacts the European Underground Foundation. He explains the task to the hit squad. There is to be no thuggery, no murder, just computer destruction. The squad understand this as they are influenced by the Zen Artisans of the Pacific Rim, pacifists who loathe technology. Also, Michael Dog has primed them. But the price agreed is large, and Nulight begins to wonder how much he has left of the label funds. He has kinda lost track...
Arriving 9pm Berlin Airport, the team walk through alleys into the city so as to avoid the urban securicam system. There are four of them, plus Nulight: Franc, Zipperdie, Kermita and Gloria. Despite the season it is freezing, and they splash along the pot-holed streets wearing hooded anoraks and greased boots. The gap between public and private in the neu Deutschland is great, and landlords have turfed out all those who cannot pay. As a result street culture is based around the tent and the black market, a mini-environment of claustrophobic poverty; tents ruined by acid rain, grime-streaked, packed tight, leaving only narrow channels through which people must risk walking. In streets with car access it is worse, as there are running battles between beggar gangs and alky-taxi gunpersons, with many people wearing the new fashions, the bulletproof vest and the helmet. Unfortunately even this protection is no protection when you are up against Far Eastern coherent energy weapons.
So the five scramble through the morass. Nulight, knowing private alleys, takes them through passages devoid of tents, but since some of these are gang haunts and drug thoroughfares he carries that symbol of
An old man opens the door. He looks at Nulight.
"Yo, Michael," Nulight says, offering his hand.
The pair shake hands. "Come in stranger," Michael says, leading him indoors.
The Dog's office is open-plan, one huge room filled with computers, papers, CDs and such. "Been a while," Nulight remarks. "Two years?"
"Make it ten."
Nulight's eyes widen. "Buddah, that long? What you been up to?"
"Feeding my head."
Nulight nods, then pulls out a packet of minibongs and offers Michael one. "Okay, so you wanna know why I turned up?"
Michael nods. They sit down in canvas-covered easy chairs.
Nulight continues, "I need a job doing in Berlin. No blood, no mess—that's why I first thought of you—but the squad has to be good. Like, no tech footprints, right?"
Michael puffs maryjane. "You came to the right man. Peace and tranquillity is what I deal in."
Nulight chuckles. "Bancoesque. But I'm afraid ground zero is the Gesang Der Junglinge."
Michael raises his eyebrows. "That's going to cost you, Nulight." He leans forward to add, "What have you done to upset Dieter?"
Nulight replies in a cold voice, "Actually it's the other way around. And it isn't just me."
Michael relaxes into his chair. "Dieter's no pushover." He glances at Nulight. "Well, I know the perfect squad, but I'll want my cash up front."
Nulight shrugs. "I'm not playing monopoly here," he says. "The money's yours, we'll sort out the details later."
"Are you sure you want to go ahead with this? There might be consequences for you—I want to be certain that this is what you want."
"Good and bad consequences. I dig."
Michael nods. "Well, there won't be any mess, don't worry about that. I vet all my coverts. It's politics, you see?"
Nulight understands. "Peaceniks forever, and the green revolution." He grins. "Everybody knows you ain't no gangster."
Michael takes a piece of paper and writes on it.
EUFemism.
Nulight smiles. "I've heard good things about these people."
"They're quick, they're quiet. Ned Ludd would be proud of them."
...Danish pastries...
In Copenhagen, Nulight contacts the European Underground Foundation. He explains the task to the hit squad. There is to be no thuggery, no murder, just computer destruction. The squad understand this as they are influenced by the Zen Artisans of the Pacific Rim, pacifists who loathe technology. Also, Michael Dog has primed them. But the price agreed is large, and Nulight begins to wonder how much he has left of the label funds. He has kinda lost track...
Arriving 9pm Berlin Airport, the team walk through alleys into the city so as to avoid the urban securicam system. There are four of them, plus Nulight: Franc, Zipperdie, Kermita and Gloria. Despite the season it is freezing, and they splash along the pot-holed streets wearing hooded anoraks and greased boots. The gap between public and private in the neu Deutschland is great, and landlords have turfed out all those who cannot pay. As a result street culture is based around the tent and the black market, a mini-environment of claustrophobic poverty; tents ruined by acid rain, grime-streaked, packed tight, leaving only narrow channels through which people must risk walking. In streets with car access it is worse, as there are running battles between beggar gangs and alky-taxi gunpersons, with many people wearing the new fashions, the bulletproof vest and the helmet. Unfortunately even this protection is no protection when you are up against Far Eastern coherent energy weapons.
So the five scramble through the morass. Nulight, knowing private alleys, takes them through passages devoid of tents, but since some of these are gang haunts and drug thoroughfares he carries that symbol of
Similar Books
