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Stars of light appeared in my peripheral vision. Sound filled my ears, like a
thousand voices talking at once. I thought I was about to pass out, so I
waited for everything to fade. Instead of fading, suddenly things became
super-focused. The room seemed brighter. The sensation was much as if I'd just
removed sunglasses.
A digital time readout blinked into existence in the upper right-hand edge of
my vision. To the left a visual, radio, data, and subvocal frequencies monitor
winked. I could feel the pulse of the city again.
Weather information appeared at a thought. The satellite traffic grids from
six different cities spiraled into view. I flipped man-ically through all 327
video and entertainment bands. Light-headed with the bombardment of
sensations, I gripped the edge of the chair.
Superimposed over the vision of the interrogation room, the words
Urgent Message flashed. Atrophied , mental muscles took over, and with a
thought I tripped the go-ahead response.
Dee, it's me, Mouse's page overwhelmed my senses. I had to shut my eyes to get
rid of the nauseating effect. The page streaked down a busy Cairo street on
in-line skates, weaving around mixed traffic of cars, motorcy-
cles, and camels. Dust flew everywhere. He looked skyward, as though my eyes
were a floating camera.
You just surfaced like a fucking submarine. No, man, more like a goddamned
armored U-boat. .
.
and the LINK is the Lusitania. You rock, girl.
Turning serious, he added, "What's going on? Are you okay? A LINK break like
yours is going to make some waves, if you know what I mean.
With one part of my consciousness, I frantically began to sever newly formed
connections to the LINK.
The readouts vanished at my command. Sparing one thin tendril, I sent a
real-time reply command to
Mouse's house.
I opened my eyes and focused on the agent. He leaned over me, his fists
pressed hard against the tabletop. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"
he asked. "This kind of grandstanding will get you nowhere. Don't you
understand? Angelucci and his ilk are dangerous."
I breathed a sigh of relief. The agent appeared unaware that I was now fully
LINKed. I opened my palm, and stared at the bead. A biochemical transfusion?
Was it possible Jibril discovered a way to reopen
LINK connections through skin contact?
"Maybe you don't grasp the seriousness of this situation, Ms. McMannus?" the
agent was saying. "If you don't cooperate, we're going to have to book you as
an accomplice to terrorism."
Dee?
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A small, floating window opened up. Mouse's face was tight with concern.
Sorry it took so long to get back to you, but you're hard to trace. My page
tells me that a second ago you were everywhere. But, now .
. .
poof!
He shrugged, Anyway, thanks for leaving the line open, otherwise, I never
would've found you.
You're welcome.
I switched to subvocal.
Michael Angelucci and I were picked up by the FBI. Have you heard?
Mouse nodded.
Terrorism again?
His mouth smiled broadly, but his eyes looked worried.
Won't you ever learn?
The agent rapped hard on the table. "Are you listening to me?"
"You were threatening me with prison, I believe." I smiled sarcastically at
the agent. "Do go on."
In the corner, Mouse's face scrunched up.
Ouch. I heard that. Do you think that was wise? The
Feebs have got a serious case against you.
How do you know what kind of case they have against me, Mouse?
"You're damn right you're going to do time. I thought you were reasonable,
McMannus." The agent threw up his hands.
Mouse shrugged.
It's obvious you're in trouble, that's all. Hey, I did that search on this
Michael guy, and let me tell you, he's no angel.
Michael's not an angel anymore, you mean, I reminded Mouse.
Anyway, maybe the terrorists are the good guys this time.
What are you talking about?
Mouse frowned, drawing his eyebrows together.
/
don't have time to explain right now. Mouse, when was the last time you
browned out New
York?
The Mouse's eyes went wide; he shook his head.
You're crazy. I can't do that again so soon. Besides, I'm sure they've got a
tighter lock-down on the codes.
I just want one city block. Any kind of distraction will do, really. Maybe you
could tweak Traffic
Control this time.
I tried to put a smile into my electronic voice. /
thought you could do anything. Rule the world, you said. Are you going to
disappoint me?
My page said that, not me. Anyway, forget it.
Mouse's head bobbed back and forth more frantically now.
Even if I was able to do it, you'd still be surrounded by armed cops, half of
them ex-military.
Besides, you can't afford that kind of thing. Remember, I saw your credit
counter. I like you a lot, Dee, but not this much. No way. No. Way.
The door flew open and crashed against the wall. In surprise, I. pushed the
chair away from the table.
Dors-hak rushed in and headed toward me.
"She's got a signal coming in, you stupid fuck," he yelled over his shoulder
to the FBI agent. "Shut her down! Shut her down!"
Mouse!
Dorshak's targeting computer presumed I'd stand up, which was a fairly
reasonable assumption. But instead, I dived under the table, and his arms
grasped the empty space. I heard the chair catch his knees.
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Unable to stop, both of them slid into the wall with a crash.
From under the table, I saw the perfectly cuffed pant-legs of the FBI agent as
he danced back and forth, unable to decide which way to go. I crawled toward
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