local yakuza were accurate. The yaks had panicked when they saw her being interviewed by a reporter, and had geeked the guy—while he was on-air, yet. It was stupid and brutal, just the sort of thing you’d expect from gangsters. But it meant that the datachip was a top-priority item. Something worth killing for.
Wetting her lips, Carla did her best not to seem too anxious. "Those men were chasing you because of something you found, Pita. Something you picked up in an alley from a man who had burned to death. An optical memory chip like those used in cyberdecks. Do you still have it?"
Carla scarcely dared the breathe. If the kid had tossed the memory chip away . . .
"What if I did?" Pita asked defensively. "The guy was already dead. It’s not like I stole it or anything."
"That doesn’t matter to those men back there." Carla said soothingly. "They want the chip back, and they won’t stop chasing you until they get it."
"Then I’ll give it back to them." The kid reached for the window button. "Right now."
"No!" Carla fought to control her voice. So the kid did have the chip, after all. Now she’d just have to talk her into handing it over.
"Even if they get the chip back, they’ll want to make sure the information it contains doesn’t get out." Carla told the girl. "You’ve had the chip for twenty-four hours. Even if the information on the chip is encoded, that’s plenty of time for an experienced decker to decrypt it. You’re just a kid, without any connections, but those goons don’t know that. They’ve got to assume you’ve read the data it contains. And that means—"
Masaki cut her off. "Stop it, Carla!" he said. "You’re scaring her. You’re scaring me, too."
"I was going to say," Carla said, an icy tone in her voice, "that it means we’ve got to air our story on Mitsuhama as soon as possible. Once the technical data on the chip is public knowledge, there’ll be no need for the corporation to try to keep us quiet."
"Oh." Masaki was still driving quickly, but not recklessly. They were only a few blocks from the KKRU building. It was late, but Carla was keyed up with the excitement of the chase. This story was going to be a big one; she could feel it in her bones. After all, Mitsuhama had killed the mage to make sure word of their top-secret project didn’t get out, and had burned the hard copy printout he’d been about to give Masaki. Funny, though, them overlooking the chip.
She reached out a hand. "Give me the chip, and I’ll make sure the story airs. Then you’ll be off the hook with the yakuza."
The kid rummaged in the pocket of her jacket. She pulled out a tiny bronze disk. But when Carla reached for it, the kid yanked her hand back. "I want you to promise me something, first." she said.
"What?"
"That you’ll do the story on my friends." the girl continued. "About how the cops killed them."
"Sure, kid." Carla promised smoothly. "Just as soon as the Mitsuhama story airs. That’s the important thing right now. Getting those goons off your back."
The kid studied Carla for a long moment, then grudgingly agreed. "O.K.." she said, dropping the data-chip into Carla’s hand.
"Now," Carla said, "tell us everything that happened the night you found the dead man."
7
When they reached the station, Carla immediately popped the datachip into a deck. Masaki fretted about encryption devices and self-wipe programs, but as it turned out, the chip wasn’t even encoded with a password.
As the two reporters hunched over the display, Pita could tell from their perplexed expressions that they didn’t understand what they were seeing. The screen was filled with a series of weird diagrams and symbols and long blocks of text. Whatever was on the chip apparently had something to do with magic because she heard Carla and Masaki muttering stuff about "hermetic circles." "astral space." and "multi-something conjuring." They at last concluded that it must be a spell formula of some sort.
By the time
Wetting her lips, Carla did her best not to seem too anxious. "Those men were chasing you because of something you found, Pita. Something you picked up in an alley from a man who had burned to death. An optical memory chip like those used in cyberdecks. Do you still have it?"
Carla scarcely dared the breathe. If the kid had tossed the memory chip away . . .
"What if I did?" Pita asked defensively. "The guy was already dead. It’s not like I stole it or anything."
"That doesn’t matter to those men back there." Carla said soothingly. "They want the chip back, and they won’t stop chasing you until they get it."
"Then I’ll give it back to them." The kid reached for the window button. "Right now."
"No!" Carla fought to control her voice. So the kid did have the chip, after all. Now she’d just have to talk her into handing it over.
"Even if they get the chip back, they’ll want to make sure the information it contains doesn’t get out." Carla told the girl. "You’ve had the chip for twenty-four hours. Even if the information on the chip is encoded, that’s plenty of time for an experienced decker to decrypt it. You’re just a kid, without any connections, but those goons don’t know that. They’ve got to assume you’ve read the data it contains. And that means—"
Masaki cut her off. "Stop it, Carla!" he said. "You’re scaring her. You’re scaring me, too."
"I was going to say," Carla said, an icy tone in her voice, "that it means we’ve got to air our story on Mitsuhama as soon as possible. Once the technical data on the chip is public knowledge, there’ll be no need for the corporation to try to keep us quiet."
"Oh." Masaki was still driving quickly, but not recklessly. They were only a few blocks from the KKRU building. It was late, but Carla was keyed up with the excitement of the chase. This story was going to be a big one; she could feel it in her bones. After all, Mitsuhama had killed the mage to make sure word of their top-secret project didn’t get out, and had burned the hard copy printout he’d been about to give Masaki. Funny, though, them overlooking the chip.
She reached out a hand. "Give me the chip, and I’ll make sure the story airs. Then you’ll be off the hook with the yakuza."
The kid rummaged in the pocket of her jacket. She pulled out a tiny bronze disk. But when Carla reached for it, the kid yanked her hand back. "I want you to promise me something, first." she said.
"What?"
"That you’ll do the story on my friends." the girl continued. "About how the cops killed them."
"Sure, kid." Carla promised smoothly. "Just as soon as the Mitsuhama story airs. That’s the important thing right now. Getting those goons off your back."
The kid studied Carla for a long moment, then grudgingly agreed. "O.K.." she said, dropping the data-chip into Carla’s hand.
"Now," Carla said, "tell us everything that happened the night you found the dead man."
7
When they reached the station, Carla immediately popped the datachip into a deck. Masaki fretted about encryption devices and self-wipe programs, but as it turned out, the chip wasn’t even encoded with a password.
As the two reporters hunched over the display, Pita could tell from their perplexed expressions that they didn’t understand what they were seeing. The screen was filled with a series of weird diagrams and symbols and long blocks of text. Whatever was on the chip apparently had something to do with magic because she heard Carla and Masaki muttering stuff about "hermetic circles." "astral space." and "multi-something conjuring." They at last concluded that it must be a spell formula of some sort.
By the time
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