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Persuasion
Chapter Nine Anne's diary service reminded her of an appointment to meet with Miss Smith; tomorrow, eleven am. Which was a relief. She knew that Elliot would be most likely to hit her security system around then, and she didn't want to be around for the ensuing explosion when he stumbled across the traps she'd left. She sat back on her fold-out bed and thought about the mess they'd made of their lives; competing in a corporate war that would be over as soon as one side got whoever it was they were trying to head-hunt. It was sad, really; they were very much alike, and she couldn't help but find his attention flattering. It was just a shame that he felt it necessary to kill her to stop her from gaining the advantage. She believed that they could have been close friends, even lovers, under other circumstances. Then again, perhaps not; perhaps they were too much alike. Her thoughts about what could have been between them seemed to hover around her like a shield; the ordinary street trash gave her a wide berth as she made her way from the Camden underground to Westgate. Then again, it could have been the inwards-turned stare she presented; they probably imagined that she was dusted... if only Wentworth hadn't shown up again, after all those years! No point in pretending; he was a painful reality. No point in even considering it; she had to work with him. They were an extraction team; imagining what might have been would only slow them down, give the advantage to the other side. Smith's door was, as usual, deadlocked five ways from Sunday, even though they had an appointment. Anyone who lived in Westgate would do the same. After identifying herself, Anne was admitted to the tiny one-room apartment, where she gave an account of last night's concert. "I heard about the Durands," Smith said. "and the Ibbotsons were lurking around there somewhere as well." "I wasn't watching them," Anne confessed. Smith smiled wryly. "I can imagine. Doing liaison work with Wentworth, hey?" Anne turned her head away sharply. "We're an extraction team, you idiot. We have to be coordinated. We all have to know exactly how the others will react. There's no time to ask questions in the middle of an operation." Smith's smile warmed somewhat. "It was nice of you to come, anyway." Anne was still on the defensive about her insinuation when Smith continued in a more serious tone, "Oh, have you mentioned me to Elliot at all?" Anne blinked. "You? Elliot? No... why would I? Do you know him?" Smith's smile darkened somewhat. "Oh, I know him, all right." Anne smiled. "If I'd known, we could have swapped old war stories." Her smile faded when she saw the look on Smith's face. "What do you know about him?" Smith stared at her for what seemed to be an uncomfortably long time. "It's probably nothing. It depends. Are you working with him?" Anne laughed sarcastically. "Against, more like. We're both on the Wallis / Lyme Genetech Extraction. We've got minimal exchange contracts.. we each get enough information on the others' moves so we don't plan an all-out assault on the same night, but apart from that, it's pretty cut-throat." Smith was lost in reflection for a few moments, staring off into space, then murmured, "Ah, it's probably nothing. That sounds like the way he works. Yeah." Anne's smile vanished. "Come on. Spill it." Smith grinned in an entirely artificial way. "No, really! Next time you hear from him, mention the Benemekada Consortium, in the West Indies. He plays by the rules, he does, our Mr Elliot." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "All completely by the rules." Anne waited until Smith felt she could continue. "Rooke - my dealer - has a data feed at the Marlborough Open Systems, and heard a rumour there that you were working against him. She told me all about it." Anne gave a single, deprecatory laugh. "There isn't that much to know." Another uncomfortable pause. "So. How are you and Mr Elliot acquainted? Should I tell him about how we - " "Christ, no! Look... I needed to know how closely you were working with him. I'll give it to you simple. He's only in this for one thing: money. He doesn't want a reputation, he doesn't want a secure place with a Zaibatsu; he'd sell out to anyone he could. I heard, one time, he switched allegiance four times during an op, because he was offered more money. He was the only person to walk out of that deal alive. Even the guy they were snatching got it. You haven't dared turn your back on him so far?" Anne shook her head. "Good deal. You'll live longer that way." "I trust you can prove this?" Smith gave that wry half-smile again, produced a message wafer and slotted it into a reader. Anne scanned the text as it appeared in the air before them; details of an extraction from an East Indies company in Benemekada, three years ago. Smith and Elliot had been part of the extraction team then. There was a four-minute segment of video from someone's shoulder-mounted camera; Anne could just make out Elliot's features attached to a dark-clad body which held a minigun. And the minigun didn't seem particular about who it was firing lead-jacketed rounds at - security, the extraction team, or the poor bastard they were after. "Three of us made it out of that fiasco," Smith muttered. "All of my capital was tied up in it. I haven't worked in the business since - no-one will touch me, because of him. Oh, yeah. Check this one out." She displayed another record from the same wafer; email from Elliot to Smith's boyfriend, Charles. Anne had heard that he'd been killed during an op.
Charlie, your generosity astounds me yet again, and I thank you for the offer, but I'm in work at the moment, so, thanks but no thanks. Although I'll be rid of that old fart Walter Elliot any day now. I've been right through the Kellynch system and sucked all the useful data out of it, so if I ever get the chance, I can bring them down "in one swell foop", as they say. They'll be hit so hard, there won't be a piece you couldn't fit in your mouth when I'm finished with them. Jeez, it galls me that I have the same surname as that senile relic - just call me WM from now on. Ciao. Anne stared at this for a long time. "That's my father he's talking about," she said slowly. "And from the date on that email, that was when he first offered me work. He was going to use me to crash my own family's data haven. Jesus." "Who better?" Smith asked gently. "Who else knew the systems at Kellynch better than you?" "But he can't have expected me to - my own family..." "He probably wasn't going to tell you until it was too late." Anne shook her head, marvelling. "That son of a bitch." |
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