Rat Runners by Oisin McGann Page B

passed under his feet.
    It was an almost unconscious process, and as they came out into a corridor whose sounds he recognized—the boilers for the hospital’s heating system were off this corridor—he thought about the bizarre situation he’d found himself in. It was the worst possible time to be teamed up with strangers, people he couldn’t trust. And there were few enough that he had ever trusted. He had to get clear of them as soon as he could.
    Once out of the tunnels, he and the others removed their blacked-out contact lenses, chewing them up and swallowing them. Manikin headed decisively for an exit that would bring them out into one of the alleys at the back of the hospital complex. Nimmo watched her, wondering if she was going to be a problem. He knew her by reputation—they’d even worked on the same job at one point—though he’d never actually met her.
    She was supposed to be smart, quick and able to change her appearance and character with the ease of a seasoned actor. But she was also known for being a hot-head. Nimmo didn’t like working with people who were liable to get emotional. She was good-looking, but not beautiful, with an expressive oval face and wide, open features. Her athletic frame moved like a dancer’s, but there was a nervous energy about her too.
    Nimmo had also heard a lot about FX. At twelve years old, the younger lad was already an adept hacker—his imagination, inventiveness and sheer technical brilliance making up for his lack of experience. FX was less comfortable in the villain’s world than his older sister, but he had nerve and a level head, and that was enough to be getting on with.
    They were all following Manikin towards the exit. FX was trailing behind, checking his console to see if anybody had been interfering with it. Scope was walking alongside Nimmo. Like the two boys, she carried a small pack on her back, and all four put on shades as soon as they went outside. A baseball cap also covered much of Scope’s distinctive blonde cornrows. She was happy to be getting out for a bit, even if she was taking the risk of some peeper or copper asking why she wasn’t in school. Her parents hated the education system, the way the government ran things. They’d schooled her at home before she began work for Move-Easy, but it still felt strange being out in the city on a school day. Her job rarely took her outside, she spent little time at home any more, and didn’t have many friends, so she often got too wrapped up in her work.
    Nimmo was relieved to see Scope wasn’t wearing a piercing in her eyebrow.
    “You bugged?” he asked her quietly.
    “No.” She shook her head. “Move-Easy doesn’t normally bug any of the kids who work for him. He insists they stay free of illegal electronics—the less the Safe-Guards can find on them, the less reason they have to get in the kids’ way. He relies on sheer bloody terror to make sure they do what they’re told.”
    “That fits.”
    He had known Scope for a couple of years—as long as he’d been working for Move-Easy. She didn’t spend much time on the street, but then that wasn’t why Nimmo had asked for her. He needed her analytical brain—that incisive eye she brought to all her work. Despite her tender age, she had been outsmarting forgers, con men and the police’s forensic scientists for nearly three years, and making it look easy. Nimmo was hoping she could help dig him out of the hole he was in.
    “So what’s your line?” FX asked, as if he had been reading the older boy’s thoughts.
    “What do you mean?” Nimmo countered, though he understood well enough.
    “Mani does deception, I do tech,” FX said. “Scope does analysis. What’s your specialty?”
    “Avoiding responsibility,” Nimmo replied.
    Out in the alleyway, Manikin was waiting for the rest of them. It was eight o’clock in the morning. Around them, they could hear the sounds of rush hour. The streets would be filled with people on their way