Agency

106 34th Floor

Qamishli?” Rainey asked, from the kitchen, having tired of the feed from the drone.

Netherton muted. “Haven’t heard anything,” he said, “but here’s Verity, out from under the table, headed our way.”

“Give her my best.”

“I will.”

“Looking good,” Conner said, as Verity arrived.

“Not healthgoth, anyway,” she said. “I’ve seen fashion spreads of what she wears to show new projects.”

“Rainey sends her best,” Netherton said.

“Not in there with you?”

“Not currently. She’s anxious for news of Qamishli.”

“Eunice just told me it’s better, but nothing like all better.”

He quickly muted. “She says it’s slightly better, but I have to get back.”

“Thanks!” Rainey said.

He unmuted.

“Give her mine, then,” Verity said. “Virgil, is there a schedule for this?”

“An order, but not a schedule,” Virgil said. “But that’s three items, not counting what comes after them, and they’re all probably very brief. Then we either meet and greet the audience here or get hauled off and booked. We seem to be close to go, though. Caitlin just got her drone display up, outside, and they can’t stay out there indefinitely. Stets is ready. You get caught up with Eunice?”

Ash’s sigil pulsed. As Verity began to speak, Netherton muted the drone’s audio input.

“We have Kevin Pryor in the building,” Ash said, “Cursion’s top operative.”

“Where is he?” Netherton asked.

“Thirty-fourth floor, at the moment,” she said. “We won’t know how he got there until we can go over the security footage. And perhaps not then, because he seems quite good at this sort of thing. He’s resting, it seems, or more likely biding his time. He shouldn’t be able to reach us on the fifty-second, according to the blueprints, but Stets’ property includes part of the fifty-first, infrastructure space, in which the former owner constructed an illicit back door. We assume he’s aware of that. Conner will be taking the drone down. I recommend you have a break from the drone now.”

“Why?”

“To avoid the trauma of witnessing someone being killed by a bipedal combat drone.”

“No,” Netherton said, surprising himself.

“No?” Ash sounding at least as surprised.

“I can’t just sit on the couch and imagine it all. I have to be there tonight. Will we miss Eunice speaking?”

“Depends on Conner, I suppose. Or for that matter on Pryor. But it’s your decision.”

“I’ll stay.”

“Very well.”

Her sigil gone, he unmuted the drone’s audio.

“—a little fireworks,” Virgil was saying, “digital ones. Minimalist. Visually very quiet. A lot of our bylaw budget’s going for that, because we’re doing it with drones, lots of them, no permission. Then, depending on SFPD’s mood, Stets’ lawyers, and what connections Cursion might have, we’ll see.”

Conner was extending the drone’s legs now, the charger fastened to its lower back sliding up the trailer’s wall. “’Scuse us,” he said, as Verity and Virgil stepped back to give it room, “something needs seeing to. Find you when that’s taken care of.”

“Bye, Conner,” Verity said.

The drone, with a silicone-coated manipulator, approximated a thumbs-up, then headed for the door.

The perforated metal stairway they’d climbed was screened with spotlessly white fabric, cutting off any view of the space beyond. As they descended, Conner kept both manipulators on the metal handrails.

“Haven’t met you boys,” said a woman’s voice, unusually deep, “but of course I know who you are. I’m Eunice.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Conner.

“Hello, Eunice,” said Netherton.

“Wilf,” said the voice. “I’m coming along. Want to speak with Pryor, before any final decision’s made.”

“Sounded to me like one had been,” Conner said, reaching the bottom.

“We’ll see about that,” said the voice, levelly.

They stepped out past the white scrim, the display filled with graceful abstract shapes, in that same white, sweeping up to the complexly domed ceiling.

“What is this?” Netherton asked.

“Caitlin’s decorating job,” Eunice said. “Get moving, Conner. Let’s not attract any more attention than we already have.”

People on the edge of the well-dressed crowd, about thirty meters away, had noticed the drone. A few pointed at it.

“Yes ma’am,” said Conner, turning the drone, retracting its legs slightly, and skating away, in the opposite direction, into what seemed a darkened, cavernous, and decidedly undecorated construction site.