19:57:50 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Miner's Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Zeyda nodded. "I know it's not your usual line of work, but like I said, something came up and I figured I'd at least offer. Johnson didn't give any identification for the target other than it was a civilian to be determined at time of hire. Standard practice is for you to be able to back out at any time prior to knowing the identity of the mark. Think you're going to pass on this one?"

1818 Monday January 8, 2063 - Land's End Magic Shop


"Deal. Leave the diagrams and any other information you have on the workbench over there." Andieholds his hand out to seal the deal with a handshake.

He will then check the circulation at this point.

0300 Saturday January 6, 2063 - Somewhere in the Redmond Barrens

While the shaman is considering the place again, Alleycat triggers a quick phone call:

"Hoi, Avalanche. Need some help. Talk to me."

He'd been distracted by something he was working on, that much was obvious, but he's answering now: "Alleycat?"

The decker sounds surprised to hear her. No doubt he'd been expecting Blaze instead. "Listen, Avalanche, is Paradigm Shift still open at this hour? I'll need you to quickly dig up anything you can about it, say within the next quarter hour or so -- and then get into the place and stand overwatch for Blaze and me. Especially the weapon detectors and any cameras and such, if they're Matrix-linked, get into them and keep us out of them. Keep in touch, this phone, I've got it on subvocals. Wakarimasu ka?"

19:58:47 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Miner's Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

"Yeah, I think so. I may be hard-up for cash, but killing for money doesn't sit well with me...if it's a them-or-me situation maybe..."

Tenmou shrugged. "Sorry Zeyda. I hope this doesn't land you in too tight a spot."

01:42:58 Monday 01 January 2063 - Los Angeles, CFS

The chest-pounding beat of the classic dance hall music she favored set the insides of the sleek coupe to vibrating as she cruised from the 405 to Santa Monica Boulevard, the tips of her fingers drumming softly against the steering wheel in time to her little 'car dance.' Knowing better than to sing along, Cosmo focuses instead on looking for a good place to pull over before meeting this Drago fellow.

A multi-level parking garage off to her right catches her eye, most likely due to the fact that it's sporting only half as much lighting as any other building so far. The coupe yields to the slightest shift of her foot, slowing just enough to make the turn into the parking complex, navigate to one of the darker sections on the third level, and slide to a stop in the most likely spot to avoid any possible surveillance. She depresses the trunk release button and slides out of the purring vehicle, nylon bag in hand, curious to see if the new BMWs had any standard materials worth using. Her breath caught at what she saw there.

Carry-on bag, hard-sided duffel .. both black, both full .. grapple gun .. stealth line .. black aluminum attaché case .. urban camo jumpsuit ....

Cosmo's eyebrows climb higher and higher as each new item is revealed though her jaw drops at what's strapped to the trunk's lid, a faint sense of dread coiling within the pit of her stomach.

Ares Alpha .. SPAS 22 .. but, no one knew about those.

Eyes wide, she checks the larger duffel, finding still more of her standard gear selections, each either folded neatly or assigned to a hard-sided case within the bag itself. Whomever set this up knew a good deal about her .. more than she found reasonably comfortable. She considered the armored vest and long coat, along with the SPAS within arm's reach, sighed, and shook her head, her hand moving finally to the smaller carry-on bag.

Clothes, finally.

She smiled as only a true clotheshorse could, breathing an audible sigh of relief that she would not have to walk into a four star restaurant in what she was wearing. Trembling fingers trailed lovingly over imported silks and cashmeres, fine cottons and the softest satins. Platinum, white gold, and silver, they were all here .. only three pairs of heels .. but she could work with that. The inclusion of stockings and garters caught her up short for a moment, especially once she realized that no additional hoisery had been provided. Cosmo rolled her eyes. Clearly, the man liked black .. and .. knew her size. She frowned, first tilting a shiny black stiletto towards the light and then a satin brassiere.

Uncanny....

Resolving to consider this in more detail at a later time (the restaurant was only open until three, after all), she places the items within the smaller bag, already considering what looked to be a disguise kit tucked away in one corner of the trunk....

_____

01:51:17 Monday 01 January 2063 - Los Angeles, CFS

A cooly intimidating woman strides out of the parking garage, clothed from head to toe in black, though the garnet lining of her overcoat flashes in the harsh flourescent glow of the Boulevard's streetlights from time to time. Sleek auburn hair with a dramatic left part frames a face that can only be counted as striking, with dark chestnut-hued eyes and vivid red lips.

Cosmo approaches the restaurant at a brisk pace, the heels of her four-inch stilettos 'click'ing ominously on the sidewalk, a pair of lightly tinted silver sunglasses masking her deadly glare.

19:59:04 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Miner's Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Zeyda shakes his head. "Not to worry, I'll shop it to my third string and see what he has to say. If you're still interested in work, I've only got one other thing. It doesn't pay as well, only 2K, but it's low key. Meet's tomorrow night at 1900. 10441 Pacific Court Way Suite 302."

0300 Saturday January 6, 2063 - Somewhere in the Redmond Barrens

With great effort, Blaze forced himself to remain calm and resisted the growing urge to just sweep Alleycat aside, head down to the Paradigm Shift, and tear the place apart. That probably wouldn't be very productive, might get him dead, and certainly wouldn't help Melissa anyway.

In order to divert his growing rage, Blaze began to focus, trying to gain what information he could from the room, per Alleycat's suggestion. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he opened himself to the astral...

Yes, a fire elemental has definitely been here...several strong spells were thrown by one...two...at least two...maybe even three magicians. Violence, certainly, and lots of it, but no death. That's good...beyond that...how many there were, it was tough to say...traditions...most likely a hermetic, probably a shaman, and maybe...a wu jen?

Or maybe not. The strong emotions that still lingered made it tough to get anything solid on the people involved; their emotions dominated their presence and time here. At least he knew they were up against at least one, possibly more, magicians.

Opening his eyes, he said through clenched teeth. "At least two magicians were here, possibly three. There was a strong magical confrontation here, but no deaths, at least none that I could discern. It's not much, but it's a start. Now that I've done that, can we go now?"

1229 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Virgil's Redmond Safehouse

After handing Sybersnake the gun, and without waiting for Virgil's response, Dragon took up the best vantage point he could in the room that didn't leave him exposed to enemy fire. Without taking his eyes off the street, he said, "Virgil, quit standing there thinking and get your goddamn hoop in gear. I'm going to call Daedalus and try to get him in the game. We're running out of people here, and we need some extra help."

A sudden movement caught Dragon's eye, but he realized it was just Sybersnake checking the magazine in the gun before ramming it back home.

Encrypting his communications, he dialed up Daedalus. After a few rings, a voice answered, "Leave a message."

"Hey D, it's me." Inputing the correct passcode to identify himself to his friend, his transducer then poured thought into communication at literally the speed of thought. "Remember that thing we were supposed to be doing? Well it might get a little delayed. Things are getting a little complicated down here in Seattle, and if you aren't here yet, get here. Virgil and I could use some assistance, so get here on the double and give me a call with your ETA ASAP. Later."

Dialing up Susan next, he said (via the transducer), "Don't respond. Just listen. Be ready to move at any moment, I'll call you when we're clear and can tell you when and where to meet. Just remember to keep your eyes peeled for anyone who may be watching when we make the drop. Stay safe. Take care."

Speaking once again to the group, he added, "Tiffany, you still haven't answered my question. Who contacted you and what exactly did they say?" Forstalling her obvious protest, he clarified, "I don't need a name. Just how you know this person's information is on the money. A little more detail would definitely help. And don't worry, as soon as we get out of here, we'll get some supplies and you a change of clothes."

1818 Monday January 8, 2063 - Land's End Magic Shop

When Andie extends his hand, Durin spits into his palm and pumps the mage's hand several times before finally releasing it. The dwarf's grip, not surprisingly, is very strong.

"Just running out to the car then," he informs Andie, who surreptitiously wipes his hand off the first moment Durin's back is safely turned, the credstick still in his other hand. He looks around for some safe place to put it down, where it won't accidentally find itself in a crucible over a Bunsen burner. He finally gives up and sticks it in his back pocket, where it feels awkward but won't get in the way. Need to get some clothes with more practical pockets, if I'm going to keep doing this kind of thing. Then he remembers the dwarf's long duster, and reconsiders.

The circulation hasn''t been disturbed. Fortunately. He didn't think there was enough money Durin could have paid him to make up for it if this batch had been damaged in any way. I need an extra pair of hands. I need time to conjure an extra pair of hands. I need the fragging time to formulate the fragging conjuring!

Durin's back and staggering through the front door with a jangling of bells, and what he's carrying makes Andie's eyes widen. "Well then," says the dwarf, depositing the huge roll of paper onto the workbench, which instantly gives an alarming creak and some splintering sounds, "that's the lot. Oh, and here's the rest of your deposit," he adds as he fishes briefly in those deep pockets of his and comes up with a couple of thick, stained wads of nuyen bills, which he tosses on top of the workbench beside the rest. "Well," he says simply, "I'm off."

With the slam of the front door behind Durin, the workbench gives up and shatters down the middle, depositing all its contents on the floor amid a small flurry of plastic splinters.

1230 Saturday January 6th, 2063 - Virgil's Redmond Safehouse

"A moment," says Susan, cutting in despite Dragon's injunction not to respond: "Sybersnake -- do I bring in anything from her drops?" Well versed in the ways of transducers, where a second's hesitation is an eternity, she quickly explains: "Does she want me to run go-between on her spares?"

Thrown off his trajectory, Dragon hesitates a moment longer, then quickly relays the question to Sybersnake. Her eyes widen perceptibly, and for the first time since the restaurant her mouth shows a slight quirk of a smile. "Si, yes -- can I give her the address?"

"It's encrypted," Dragon informs her levelly. She quickly gives him a locker number at a Tacoma mall, along with its combination. When Dragon relays the information to his sister via transducer, she says cryptically, "Convenient," and leaves it at that; leaving him to wonder why Sybersnake was suddenly so open with her secrets in the presence of someone still virtually a stranger. Ah yes, it's not like she will be coming back to it afterwards, so she's not really giving anything away.

He turns to Tiffany and asks his question, and then repeats and tries to clarify against her obvious frustration. She blinks: "But I don't know anything more than what I've already shown you."

0300 Saturday January 6, 2063 - Somewhere in the Redmond Barrens

"Just one more question," she says, another part of her waiting for Avalanche's reply on the phone, her attention split in too many directions now and hoping it won't cost her. "Can you find anything personal of Melissa's anywhere in the room? Even a hair ...? Even if you don't know for sure it was hers? You know she was here after all, and maybe it's something you can use to get a ritual link working later, or to ask your watcher to help trace ...?"

01:52:47 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Il Grano sits back from the busy lanes of Santa Monica Boulevard, screened from the passing traffic by a rank of low hedges. The building's facade is that of an old world Italian villa: washed stone walls topped by brick and terra cotta tile. Torches gleam from within the courtyard leading up to the front doors. In the summertime, the courtyard would host a dozen tables of diners, the smell of garlic and bolognese sauce drifting out across the parking lot. Now, though, only the wintery west wind blows, and the yard is empty save for a pair of uniformed valets. The two stare openly as Cosmo passes, duties momentarily forgotten. A group of four men exiting the restaurant pauses to hold the door for her, conversation halting mid-sentance. The Maitre d', a distinguished looking older Italian gentleman in a severe black suit, looks up at the sound of her approach. He smiles, as if he were delighted to see her, coming out from behind his podium and greeting her with a small bow.

"Ah, buona sera, signora. You are luminous tonight. Signor Drago is waiting for you. Prego."

The Maitre d' turns, ushering Cosmo past with his open hand. He leads her to the right, past the large mahogany bar with its gleaming brass rail, into the heart of the restaurant. The downtown skyline is breathtaking through the floor to ceiling windows at the back of the room, while the walls to either side are painted in frescoes depicting a rural countryside. The corner table he takes her to is occupied by a middle-aged Italian man dressed casually in a gray sport coat and tie. A battered Novatech Quantum data display unit is pushed to the side, making way for a large plate of bruschetta. Standing where she is, Cosmo is able to smell the heady mix of garlic, olive oil, and basil covering the fresh roma tomatos. The man rises as the two approach, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin. He smiles, something of a world weary gesture, and motions to the open seat.

"Buona sera, Ms. Richards. My name is Celestino Drago. I've been expecting you."

01:54:31 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Smiling over her shoulder at the attendant Maître D', Cosmo murmurs a soft "grazie" as she glides towards the chair, removing the pale glasses as well as the long coat which had remained fastened until now.

"Signor Drago, buona sera."

Her tone was amused, even friendly, as she regarded the aging man across the table.

"Words cannot express how I have looked forward to this meeting."

Her smile widens slightly as the coat falls from her shoulders, revealing an immaculately-tailored suit, designer of course, and cut to fit her tall frame to perfection. The Midnight-black silk, sans blouse, stands out in stark contrast against her smoothly pale skin and is offset by the single platinum chain hanging within her breathtakingly displayed cleavage.

She slips into the offered chair, curious to see what it is Signor Drago requires from her, exactly....

0300 Saturday January 6, 2063 - Somewhere in the Redmond Barrens

Practically growling in frustration, Blaze nonetheless agrees to look some more, and the two of them, plus the watcher, practically tear the place apart looking for something, anything, that might help them. However, their efforts are in vain, and it is quickly obvious that there will be no traces of Melissa for them to find tonight. Whoever was here, they took great care in ensuring that no traces of their presence, or Melissas's, would be found by anyone else. Odd, considering that this was mothing more than a rundown apartment in the Barrens...

01:54:48 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

"Prego, signora, call me Tino. Everyone else does. I must say that my client did not adequetly describe your beauty to me. Would you care for something to eat? Some wine perhaps? It's just the house merlot, but I like the taste."

He gestures with his left hand to the half-full bottle on the table. The back of his hand is ridged with burn scars in a distinctive pattern: the forward heat shield on an Ingram Valiant LMG.

"I know you must have a thousand questions for me, however, I do not have a thousand answers for you. I will tell you all that I know, though. I was contacted by a client, someone unknown to me. It's not unusual given the business that I'm in. It was a virtual meeting, the face that he wore could have been real, it could have been completly fictional. Again, it is not unusual for my clients to desire anonymity. What was unusual was how well informed this client was, he seemed to know quite a bit about my business, my operating procedures, and the general capabilities of my organization. He explained that a woman would come to see me tonight, after midnight. He said that you may be a little disoriented, that you might ask some strange questions. I was to do my best to answer them, and to provide you with this."

Drago slides a thin, black plastic binder across the table.

"For this task, I was paid a handsome sum, far more than was necessary to secure my services. Your employer, whomever he is, has access to impressive resources. I don't suppose you would care to enlighten me as to just who it is that I may be working for?"

20:00:22 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Miner's Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Tenmou nodded. "I am still interested in work. Any finer details on this smaller job?"

0300 Saturday January 6, 2063 - Somewhere in the Redmond Barrens, more or less simultaneous with trying to talk to Blaze

And as Alleycat is finishing I've got it on subvocals, Avalanche's answering service cuts in:

20:01:01 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Miner's Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

Zeyda consults his pocket secretary for a moment before answering.

"Not much, looks like it's an escort job. Get the package from point A to point B safely. It's all intercity so you won't have to worry about papers or checkpoints or anything."

20:02:00 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Miner's Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

"Alright, that sounds more my speed. I'll head for that meet tomorrow night then. Thanks, Zeyda. Unless you need me for anything else, I suppose I'll take my leave," Tenmou said, sliding to the edge of his seat.

20:02:19 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Miner's Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

"Not tonight, partner, good luck and watch your back."

Zeyda makes a final notation in his p-sec before closing out the file.

01:58:05 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

I’ll kill him.

Cosmo wasn’t startled by the sheer vehemence of that thought, much less by the utter conviction with which she thought it. Rather, she seemed to relish the possibility of beating this faceless stranger into a fine red mist.

Some of her murderous intent must have bled into her expression, judging from the look Tino was giving her and while she might not have cared one way or another, her training was too good to let such a thing pass. She affected a charming smile and made a point of relaxing within the roomy chair.

“Tino, then, but only if you will call me Meg.”

She sighed softly, idly tracing one finger across the top of the slim binder.

“If I knew, Tino I would certainly enlighten you, but maybe we can help each other. I can confirm his resources, yes, as well as his sources since he seems to know a good deal about me. This is where my information falls short, however, since you have spoken with him and I have not. Perhaps this is not a safe place for him? Perhaps he is not yet prepared to reveal himself? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps….”

Trailing off, Cosmo shrugs lightly, showing only a sliver of how confused she truly was.

“You have met with him. What sort of face did he wear for you? What sort of questions did he indicate I would be asking? Can you tell me how you were contacted? How you came to receive the binder? Tino, anything you can offer would be a tremendous help.”

She smiled a bit more broadly though her expressive, imploring eyes remained fixed on his.

“Some wine would be lovely, and if you don’t mind sharing that bruschetta .. I feel like I haven’t eaten in years….”

01:58:39 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Lost Angeles, CFS

"Of course, please, help yourself." Drago poured the wine as he spoke, his eyes breaking away from Cosmo's intense scrutiny.

"My client contacted me originally through one of the many electronic drop boxes I use, leaving only an LTG number and a time to conduct the virtual meeting at. He appeared as a well dressed individual of caucasian descent, rather plain looking to tell the truth. Brown hair, brown eyes, fake tan, manicured nails, polished wingtips, and a plain suit and tie. Our conversation was brief and to the point, strictly business. The entire meeting didn't last longer than fifteen minutes. The folder I received two days later by commercial courier."

0301 Saturday January 6, 2063 - Somewhere in the Redmond Barrens

Blaze seems to have gotten at least some hold on his emotions. "I'm not sure, I don't know when he would be available. But for the meantime let's find that payphone and make that call. I'd like to try and trace down this lead tonight, if we can."

Blaze's shades cover his eyes making it hard to tell exactly what he's thinking, but the do give him a menacing air.

Breaking from his icy demeaner for a moment or Blaze turns to Alleycat, thanks and kindness aparent on his face. "But before we move on I want to thank you. You've helped me out greatly here, if only by preventing me from getting myself killed by rushing into things. So, thank you."

Walking slowly towards the entrance of the building Blaze waits for Alleycat to follow. "If you're ready let's get out of here, there's nothing else here for me to find. They were pros, and like pros, they left nothing."

01:59:49 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo masked her disappointed frown by raising the generously-filled glass of wine to her lips and inhaling the heady boquet.

It could be anyone....

"Would you excuse me a moment, Tino?"

Setting the glass aside with a carefully impassive expression, she rises from the table, purse and binder in hand, and glides off in search of a powder room. Perhaps not the most graceful exit, but she had yet to receive an answer that shed any light on her situation. Glancing at her watch, she sighed.

Two hours awake, now .. am I any farther ahead?

02:01:05 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

The restroom facilities are chrome and marble, the modern design at odds with the old world ambiance effused by the rest of the building. Style and class, though, are clearly not lacking in any aspect of this business. Cosmo finds herself alone, with just the barest hint of classical music drifting down from the overhead speakers.

02:01:05 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Locking the door behind her, Cosmo sets her bag down and finds a place to sit. Resting the slim black binder on her lap, she begins to leaf through its contents, keeping careful note of the time so as not to keep Tino waiting overlong.

02:06:22 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

The first five pages are surveillance photographs, high quality color digital images of a five story building showing all sides, along with the roof. The next two pages are folded blueprints, presumably floorplans of the building in question. They're labeled as ground and first floor. The last page is simple typed text, a list of five serial numbers followed by a lattitude and longitude. An OMC tucked into the back flap of the folder is presumably all of the documents in electronic format.

0301 Saturday January 6, 2063 - Somewhere in the Redmond Barrens

With a slight, almost feral grin, Alleycat holds up the matchbook with its embossed lettering. "Could be a red herring of course, but we'll hope not. There was an all-night cinema Avalanche and I passed yesterday, getting out of Dodge. Should have a working payphone there, and it wasn't all that far from the club. Got space for me on that chopper of yours?"

At Blaze's short nod, she gets on behind him, and the two of them roar into the night.

06:00:20 EST Monday 01 January 2063 – Hoover Building, Federal District of Columbia, UCAS

Technically it was a holiday today, the sidewalks empty of all but snow, the streets host to just a fraction of the normal workday traffic. Warrick climbed the stairs to his fourth floor office slowly, his head tilted just to the left as he let his thoughts run.

If Katerina had been here, they would have celebrated late into the night, probably at some party hosted by one of her friends. She would have insisted on making him dance with her, smiling her soft, enigmatic smile and pressing her body close against him as the music swirled around them. Champagne would make her giggly, and she would fall into his arms at midnight, the kiss leaving him breathless as it always did.

But it was two months now that she was gone, empty spaces in the closet they shared that he couldn’t bring himself to fill, empty spaces in the life they once shared that he couldn’t bring himself to forget. With a sigh, he ran his passcard through the door, waiting as the maglock verified the digital key. Pushing his way inside, he set his attaché case on the floor before hanging his longcoat on an old fashioned brass hook set in the wall next to the door.

His office was small by any standards, and made more so by the piles of books and hardcopy printouts strewn about. The industrial beige walls were invisible behind a layer of maps and satellite graphics, surveillance camera stills, ballistics reports, forensics files, and intelligence summaries. The only clear space in the room was, oddly enough, his desktop. Seating himself in the worn leather office chair, he leaned back to stare at the ceiling. Without looking, he reached for the interface cable wound beneath the desk, pulling the fiber optic line free from its spool. The jack on the end mated with the port installed behind his right ear, and he closed his eyes, letting the virtual workspace expand before him.

Two icons immediately highlighted themselves: voice and text messages. He cued the voice calls first, listening with half an ear as his boss wished him a happy new year, Paul asked for a lunch meeting sometime next week, and the documents office reminding him that any requested package not picked up within five working days will be refilled. He deleted them all. His mail queue, though, would require a bit more work. Warrick subscribed to quite a few avenues of intelligence gathering, none of which came in compiled, digest form. Despite the excellent nature of the agent programs he used, it would still take the better part of an hour for him to sort through the information provided, discarding the chaff from the useful intel. All of his plans stopped, though, when he opened the first message.

It contained a single image: a grainy surveillance shot taken at medium resolution, dim light, from a GridGuide camera. The date/time stamp was this early this morning, just past 0130 Pacific Standard Time. In the upper right hand corner was the camera’s location, meaningless to Warrick since it was a grid reference, but he could look it up easily enough. The figure, though, was anything but meaningless. Even after two years he knew her instantly. For long moments he sat, staring at the picture of a woman he thought was dead. His agent returned with requested information: the location of the camera. Los Angeles. How appropriate. With a thought, he dispatched his agents again, moving now with a purpose.

An hour later, Warrick pulled out of the underground parking garage, turning right onto 9th St before taking the I395 ramp. Ten minutes later he was pulling into Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. Past the terminals and the offices housing Signature Aviation Services, he pulled into long term parking. Walking down the long aisle of vehicles, he came at last to a gray Chevy SUT. With a glance around to clear himself, he slid behind the wheel. At the exit kiosk, Warrick hands the attendant a certified credstick. The young man nods, opening the gate. No record of the transaction is made, and, in fact, no record exists of the vehicle ever having parked in the lot.

Heading south, he passed into Virginia, stopping at a gas station outside Lake Ridge. Stepping out of the vehicle, he gazed around again, spending a full five minutes scrutinizing the area. Satisfied, he connected his pocket secretary to the payphone, waiting patiently while the encryption program ran through its algorithms. Opening up the comm interface, he places a call to the first of seven numbers.

“Ulysses. November three four five three three zero. Whiskey one one seven zero one zero zero. Twenty four hours.”

Fifteen minutes later, he was on the road again, having left the same message at all seven numbers.

02:06:43 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

FTL Matrixware?

Cosmo zoomed in on the image on the side of the building, confirming that she was, in fact, correct. Hardware, software, business infrastructure …. She closed the binder with a frown.

The incongruity of this whole mess dragged at her like a lead weight. If all he wanted was what was attached to those serial numbers, why go to all this effort? She wasn’t quite vain enough to assume that this was all for her benefit, that these little games were an overly-elaborate means of putting her in her place. The black stockings kept coming back to her .. there was a clue there, of course, but not one that made any sense to her as yet.

She felt naked. Someone seemed to know all there was to know about her .. but gave nothing in return besides a wordless riddle.

Letting out a bit of a sigh, she straightened her shoulders and rose, grabbing purse and binder, and headed back towards Tino’s table, her own smile turning somewhat world-weary.

0316 Saturday January 6, 2063 - Enroute

After a short period of riding extremely up close and personal, Alleycat and Blaze arive at Getting Out of Dodge. Pulling his bike up into a parking space Blaze clicks of the engine. Stepping off the bike Blaze looks over at Alleycat. "You got your call plan figured out?"

02:08:28 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Lost Angeles, CFS

Drago looks up at Cosmo's approach.

"You look troubled, signora, is there anything I can do to help?"

02:08:31 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

"Troubled?"

Cosmo sinks back into her chair, a slightly bemused smile playing across her lips as she studies Drago from across the table.

"You trust too quickly, girl."

A voice from her past, veiled in obscurity, reminds her to keep her head, even (or maybe especially) at a time like this. She sighs and shakes her head.

"Perhaps, though it's nothing a few days' rest won't fix," the lie falls easily from her lips, "are you certain he told you nothing else? Gave you nothing else?"

It was difficult to mask the fustration in her voice. On any other night, this could have been a relaxing, congenial dinner with a charming man, instead, she sat across from a person she could not open up to, unable to touch food or wine for fear that neither would sit well.

02:09:11 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Drago spreads his hands out before him palms up, then flips them palms down, then palms up. It's a quaint gesture, and certainly more expressive than a simple shrug.

"You know all that I know, signora."

20:02:59 Tuesday 02 January 2063 - Miner's Landing, Downtown Seattle, UCAS

"Alright, thanks chummer. Once this next run is over, I'll buy you a round... you need some downtime, my friend," Tenmou said with a smirk, as he rose to his feet.

0316 Saturday January 6, 2063 - at the all-night cinema

She swings down easily behind him. "Yup."

But first, she turns to the watcher who'd been tailing her the entire time, trailing the back of her long fingers along its arching back. "Thank you for all your help. Because of you, tonight, I felt safe."

Maybe it might have said something. It didn't matter. Before it could answer, it was gone.

A short moment, then her shoulders straightened and she continued the area scan part of her had been doing from the moment they'd ridden into the place. A public telecom should be ... there, yes. And if she remembered the flick times correctly, crowd should be starting to come out of the latest Arnie-Awesome in about ... now.

She steps forward enough to blend in with them easily, moving with them, letting their momentum carry her toward the telephone she'd marked earlier. Against the background buzz of excited and somewhat drunken conversation explaining everything about the surprise twist ending, she quickly placed her call to Paradigm Shift's public LTG, barely waiting for the rote acknowledgement (machine? meat?) before slurring out "Yo, chummerss -- yeah, yeah, I'm askin'! gi' me a sec -- you still open?"

02:09:28 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Her smile softened at the Italian's gesture.

"Ahh, grazie, Signor. It was just wishful thinking and you have already been a tremendous help."

A dimple peeks out of one cheek as she lifts her glass of wine, swirls the stuff around, and takes a small sip. Upset stomach or not, there was no point letting all this good food, and company for that matter, go to waste. She slips effortlessly into Italian for the remainder of their 'meeting,' allowing conversation to go where it will, and answering as honestly as she is able.

0316 Saturday January 6, 2063 - at the all-night cinema

A menu screen pulls up on the telecom, which is surprisingly still intact. From the list of options, Alleycat selects the one titled, "Hours of Operation". And yes, they are still open. Disconnecting and satisfied with the information she's received, she pauses for a moment as she decides what to do next.

02:37:42 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

"... and it was at the bottom of the pool the entire time."

Cosmo chuckled, her slight wink indicating that the amusing story was over. Her grasp of the language might not be perfect (which was worth a few laughs in and of itself), but her intonation and pronunciation were near flawless. After a quick nibble at the slice of bruschetta in front of her, she regards him somewhat seriously.

"Say, Tino .. do these numbers mean anything to you?"

Opening the binder to the page with the list of five serial numbers, she slides it towards him and smiles, hoping they'll make sense to him, at least.

1820 Monday January 8, 2063 - Land's End Magic Shop

"Looks like I owe Sara a new table." Looking at the broken workbench and Durin's paperwork littered in a pile on the floor around it Andie slowly starts going through all the material and organizing it into a better system of usefullness.

This going to be a long night....

02:37:55 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Drago chuckles heartily, his face wide and smiling at Cosmo's tale.

"Ah, signora! Such stories you tell."

Her request, though, brings him instantly sober, and he turns to the data display unit sitting neglected on the table. The matrix search takes only minutes, but is punctuated by harsh, half-muttered curses. Drago pokes the keyboard with thick fingers, glaring at the screen every time the machine takes longer to deliver the information than he wants. The eventual result elicits a grunt and a raised eyebrow. He turns the unit so that Cosmo can read the text displayed.

"Looks like your employer is a bit of a tech-head."

4CX1Q21-4327E: server controller, 6 port, configurable, pack of 4
EW780B5-0210P: optical memory storage deck, RW-R, 5000 Mp capacity, pack of 10
7HK1950-1974J: FICON express 990 superscalar processors, pack of 6
8LP1011-H60B: blade RAM, optical, 1000Mp capacity, pack of 8

02:40:08 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo frowns at the screen and the lines of text that mean next to nothing to her.

"So it would seem. Thank you for looking these up for me .. are products like these difficult to come by? And Signor, there are only four lines here...."

02:40:33 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

"Eh? Oh." Drago gives the display unit a healthy slap, after which it obediantly throws up the final line of text.

6XU4263-92C3: rack power supply, 220V, 600W, 80A, air-cooled, pack of five

"Hmm. No, not difficult, just expensive. This list here represents about seventy five thousand nuyen worth of electronic components."

02:40:47 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Sipping at her second glass of wine, Cosmo nods slowly.

This is getting rediculous .. only 75 thousand? The car alone is easily worth that .. with all the other gear, double what he's asking me to find. Why?

"Molte grazie, Tino." She winks. "Since I'll be in the neighbourhood, is there anything similar I can pick up for you while I'm there?"

02:41:14 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Drago chuckles, sipping from his own wineglass and patting the ancient data unit in front of him with affection.

"Prego, no, I'm afraid that when it comes to all of this new technology I'm at a loss."

02:42:03 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Laughing softly, Cosmo pops the last bit of bruschetta into her mouth and sighs delightedly at the marvelous blend of crusty bread, savory tomatoes, garlic, basil, and fine olive oil. With a whispered sigh of "bellissima," she takes a moment to savor the last of her wine before grinning over at Drago.

"I understand, though I'll be in touch should you change your mind. Now," she dabs delicately at the corners of her lips with the linen napkin, "would you be able to reccomend a quiet place a girl can stay for a few days?"

02:42:40 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

"I believe you will find the Trade Winds Hotel on Madison Lake Avenue to be of your liking. It is not too far from here, only ten minutes down the 10."

Drago rummages through the inner pocket on his coat for a moment before withdrawing a business card and offering it to Cosmo.

02:43:18 Monday 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo had saved her best smile, a truly stunning display of pearly white teeth and devastating dimples, for last.

"Grazie, Tino, you are the best." Rising gracefully from her seat, she leans forward and places a feathersoft kiss on each of the startled Italian's cheeks.

"Buona sera, we will talk soon."

Her eyes light mischeviously for a moment as she glances over one shoulder and then back at Drago.

"And feel free to tell your friends that I will be back tomorrow for an afternoon espresso."

02:44:20 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Outside, it has started to rain. The two valets huddle beneath the umbrella over their stand, watching as Cosmo exits the restaurant.

02:44:20 01 January 2063 - Il Grano Restaurant, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo sighs a little bit as she steps outside, winks at the valets, and turns up the collar of her jacket to keep most of the rain from dripping down her neck.

Go figure.

Her smile vanishes from the moment she exits 'Il Grano's courtyard, turning instead to more of a bemused frown as she begins to piece together her findings from the last few hours and finds very little that actually makes sense.

...

The parking garage was even less populated than it was an hour ago, much to Cosmo's relief, with very few vehicles between the first and third levels. She sighs, slips into the sporty red coupe, and starts the engine, eager to get on with her surveillance of the Trade Winds Hotel before the hour became truly rediculous. The full-spectrum glasses she'd found in the trunk of her car were an upgrade to her favourite piece of equipment, and as she adjusted the frames to fit her face and connected the thin, nearly invisible cable to the platinum-toned datajack behind her left ear, she couldn't help but check her reflection in the rear-view mirror.

Sure, the ten-minute drive up the ten would stretch into at least three times that long, but once she was finished, there was the reward of a hot soak in the tub and a badly-needed manicure to keep her going just a little while longer....