Brackhaus' appearance was the ornate walking stick resting against the seat near the door on his side. It was black lacquered wood with a golden handle in the shape of a dragon's head.
"Talon." the older man said by way of a greeting.
"Mr. Brackhaus."
"You have the item then?" Brackhaus had a slight German accent, noticeable only in certain elements of his grammar and the pronunciation of certain words. Otherwise, his English was flawless.
Talon had slipped off the backpack when he got into the car. He unzipped it and removed the wooden box, which he placed in Brackhaus' hands. Brackhaus opened the box and looked inside, a tight smile crossing his otherwise stony expression.
"Ser gut." he said quietly. "Very good. I assume there were no . . . complications?"
"None other than the ones you requested." Talon replied. "I still would have preferred to lift the key before Grace left town and leave him with a substitute, so the Illuminates wouldn't be sure when and where the real key went missing. Taking it from him en route to the airport and giving him a chance to see us was something of a risk."
"Yes," Brackhaus said, closing the wooden box and resting it on one knee, "but that is what I am paying you for, Herr Talon. My employer wanted to send a certain message to the Illuminates, among others, and this"—he tapped the box with one finger— "is merely a means to an end. The risk you took was not unnecessary, believe me."
Brackhaus' employer was none other than Saeder-Krupp, the world's largest megacorporation, with interests in industries worldwide. Saeder-Krupp was owned by another dragon, the great dragon Lofwyr, as different in many ways from the nearly sainted Dunkelzahn as night from day. Talon had no idea if Brackhaus was high up enough to deal personally with the dragon, but Lofwyr was known for his complex schemes, so it came as no surprise that the run had unusual risks for no apparent reason.
Talon shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me either way. You get what you pay for. Speaking of which . . . ?"
"Ah, yes. Of course." Brackhaus reached into the inside breast pocket of his jacket and withdrew a slim, plastic wand, about ten centimeters in length, and handed it over to Talon. "This contains the remainder of the fee we agreed upon, in certified credit kept in a numbered offshore account. Is that acceptable?"
"Very." Talon replied, turning the credstick over in his fingers once before making it disappear into one of the many pockets in his jacket. "I believe that concludes our business."
"Not quite." Brackhaus said, and Talon tensed for a moment. Did the Johnson have some kind of double-cross in mind? It was not unknown for employers to dispose of shadowrunners to eliminate loose ends that could be traced back to them. Normally, runners were too valuable an asset to waste in that manner, but shadowrunning was a dangerous business, and the megacorporations weighed their decisions based on how things affected their bottom line. Sometimes a shadowrunner was more of a liability than an asset.
"There's no need for concern." Brackhaus said, as if he could read Talon's mind. "Quite the opposite. You and your associates did quite well on this job and I have another that might be of interest to you."
Talon settled back into the cushions of the Eurocar. More work was always a good thing, even with the big nuyen they'd just made.
"I'm listening." he said. " Aracos?"
"Dunno, boss." the spirit replied in his mind. " His aura doesn't show anything except calm and confidence. He's like a stone, totally unreadable." Talon couldn't say that surprised him.
"Just say the word and I'll frag him."
"Hang on." Talon thought. " Let's see what he's got. Just keep an eye out for trouble."
Brackhaus reached into his jacket once again and withdrew a flat plastic case. He flipped open the screen of the pocket secretary and touched the control pad. The screen lit up with a digital picture of an older man, human, with gray hair and a
"Talon." the older man said by way of a greeting.
"Mr. Brackhaus."
"You have the item then?" Brackhaus had a slight German accent, noticeable only in certain elements of his grammar and the pronunciation of certain words. Otherwise, his English was flawless.
Talon had slipped off the backpack when he got into the car. He unzipped it and removed the wooden box, which he placed in Brackhaus' hands. Brackhaus opened the box and looked inside, a tight smile crossing his otherwise stony expression.
"Ser gut." he said quietly. "Very good. I assume there were no . . . complications?"
"None other than the ones you requested." Talon replied. "I still would have preferred to lift the key before Grace left town and leave him with a substitute, so the Illuminates wouldn't be sure when and where the real key went missing. Taking it from him en route to the airport and giving him a chance to see us was something of a risk."
"Yes," Brackhaus said, closing the wooden box and resting it on one knee, "but that is what I am paying you for, Herr Talon. My employer wanted to send a certain message to the Illuminates, among others, and this"—he tapped the box with one finger— "is merely a means to an end. The risk you took was not unnecessary, believe me."
Brackhaus' employer was none other than Saeder-Krupp, the world's largest megacorporation, with interests in industries worldwide. Saeder-Krupp was owned by another dragon, the great dragon Lofwyr, as different in many ways from the nearly sainted Dunkelzahn as night from day. Talon had no idea if Brackhaus was high up enough to deal personally with the dragon, but Lofwyr was known for his complex schemes, so it came as no surprise that the run had unusual risks for no apparent reason.
Talon shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me either way. You get what you pay for. Speaking of which . . . ?"
"Ah, yes. Of course." Brackhaus reached into the inside breast pocket of his jacket and withdrew a slim, plastic wand, about ten centimeters in length, and handed it over to Talon. "This contains the remainder of the fee we agreed upon, in certified credit kept in a numbered offshore account. Is that acceptable?"
"Very." Talon replied, turning the credstick over in his fingers once before making it disappear into one of the many pockets in his jacket. "I believe that concludes our business."
"Not quite." Brackhaus said, and Talon tensed for a moment. Did the Johnson have some kind of double-cross in mind? It was not unknown for employers to dispose of shadowrunners to eliminate loose ends that could be traced back to them. Normally, runners were too valuable an asset to waste in that manner, but shadowrunning was a dangerous business, and the megacorporations weighed their decisions based on how things affected their bottom line. Sometimes a shadowrunner was more of a liability than an asset.
"There's no need for concern." Brackhaus said, as if he could read Talon's mind. "Quite the opposite. You and your associates did quite well on this job and I have another that might be of interest to you."
Talon settled back into the cushions of the Eurocar. More work was always a good thing, even with the big nuyen they'd just made.
"I'm listening." he said. " Aracos?"
"Dunno, boss." the spirit replied in his mind. " His aura doesn't show anything except calm and confidence. He's like a stone, totally unreadable." Talon couldn't say that surprised him.
"Just say the word and I'll frag him."
"Hang on." Talon thought. " Let's see what he's got. Just keep an eye out for trouble."
Brackhaus reached into his jacket once again and withdrew a flat plastic case. He flipped open the screen of the pocket secretary and touched the control pad. The screen lit up with a digital picture of an older man, human, with gray hair and a
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