The limousine was state-of-the-art, a power ride paid for by one of the Union』s tless megacorps over bureaucracies. Plush leather seats ran for about half of its siderable length. There were other seats adjat and to the rear of the vehicle. The lighting was blue halogen from an ornate flat delier in the car』s roof, punctuated by the glow of a dozen puter and television ss and filtered daylight from outside. Below the ss a row of soles of various shapes and sizes. Caldwell was familiar with none of them. They looked like Japanese and ese decks.
What the hell did these people want with him? Through the huge tinted windows of the electric he saw the gray Dods streets gliding by silently. Caldwell felt his fingers clutch the knapsack, holding the sole tightly to his tense body. Si had arrived in the post, his whole life had been turned upside down. First, there was Kenzo Yamamoto』s avatar that had vanished into thin air, then the message from Glyph, who was now very much dead. here was the appearance of the tanese and now these two Union heavies in their expensive Paris cuts and the decked out limo full of fanputer equipment. All this within the space of hours.
The two men who had saved his life, if you could put it like that, sat at right ao him. Their broad heavily muscled backs were ined against the driver』s partment. They didn』t look like the talking kind so idle banter was out of the question. Their eyes were focused on the dark unlit part at the far back of the limo as though they expected something to e leaping out of there at any moment. Caldwell could not make out a driver in the front of the limo.
One of the muscle-bound men was Caucasian with flaming red hair and a blonde beard. The other looked like his twin, except he was black. They both looked like they spent a disproportionate amount of their time pumping puterized iron. There was something subliminally absurd about the way they seemed like they were about to burst out of their black macropore suits. The two men looked like private sector bodyguards for hire but there was an air about them that suggested something altogether more sihey sat there inscrutable, hiding behind their around mirror shades.
「So Mr. Caldwell, aren』t you going to thank me for saving your life?」
A voice like its owner had had iron filings for breakfast came floating through from the back of the limo. Caldwell was sure that it was enhanced by some kind of vocal implant. There was a decidedly non-human edge to it. It was a voice that sent shivers down his spine. Instantly, a maelstrom of images flashed before his eyes. Fiery dragons, paper money burning on a pyre, sleek pale girls with dark sloe eyes like avatars in an a massively multiplayer online game. The speeded up ial slideshow subsided just as quickly as it had appeared. In it』s wake a splitting headache. Caldwell ground his teeth and attempted to ighe pain.
The voice sounded like it came from a man who could single-handedly make or break lifetime careers with a snap of his fingers. Yet, it held a strange familiarity. Caldwell peered in the dire of the voice but could see nothing. He could imagine how this kind of theatrics could rattle someone in his position. And Caldwell was a little rattled. Rattled that whoever this was knew his name.
A click, as a sidelight was switched on, revealing a thin highly strung man in a black pinstriped city suit and a tan fedora. Caldwell figured he was highly strung