39 She bravely turned her tail and fled

It wasn't easy sometimes being an ethnically Chinese man that grew up in Tokyo, but Johnny knew he had the soul of a Samurai, so most things didn't bother him. He let things flow over and around him like the best Zen masters, but he was a bit put off by what he was seeing.

So Johnny merely backed away from what was going on on the hospital bed and glanced behind him to find a full tactical quick reaction force of his brothers, led by Demon Wind Kato himself. While glancing left and right for trouble, the borged-out street samurai asked, "What's going on?"

Johnny sighed and told the man everything that had happened. Not only was the Demon Wind his superior, but he was quick to anger. Kato could be as ornery as a rattlesnake with a toothache, snapping at anyone who crossed him, and it didn't do to rile him up unnecessarily.

Perhaps Johnny was the wrong person to throw such stones from his glass house, but he always felt that Kato was too attached to his moody and brooding persona. If Kato was a lesser man, Johnny would call him all hat and no cattle, but the Demon Wind had the whole herd, so Johnny was always careful to catfoot around the man.

Kato scowled, looking at the abomination before him as it worked on the dead woman, "Well, you better get to it, then. Okada-sama is blowing up my texts."

"I reckon we should do something about this here... detritus," Johnny said, eyeing the man he had shot, "We don't want to spook the customers comin' to the cathouse."

Kato ground his teeth together, "I told you before to stop calling it a cathouse." He turned to one of his men and motioned for them to pull the body into the clinic for now. Glancing around, he brightened when he saw a stack of something in the corner. "Well, at least we don't have to go and get a bodybag; she keeps a number of them around. I thought she was a good Med Techie; why does she need so many body bags?"

Johnny grinned, unable to resist, and drawled, "Probably to put in people who are makin' aspersions on her medical skills." That got two of his men to chuckle and Kato to scowl. He shook his head and went to complete the rest of what the Doc asked him. He walked over to what she had described as her "work table" and peered at it, deciding he didn't recognise any of the tools except one small screwdriver and what he might charitably describe as a fancy pair of tweezers.

Still, he didn't need to. Above the work table was a set of cabinets, and he opened them and looked around. Here things were labelled carefully and stored in over three rows of twenty small plastic drawers each, stacked on top of each other. He followed the drawers with his fingers and stopped when he got to the one that was labelled "XAC-3." He opened the drawer and pulled out one of the small inhalers inside, the same type used for any number of drugs. Closing that draw, he continued looking until he found another draw labelled "Lorazepam" and took another inhaler from it.

He put both the inhalers in his pocket and tipped his hat at Kato as he passed, offering a polite "Demon Wind."

Kato inclined his head back at him but replied, "Clown." Johnny sighed and ignored the provocation. At least Kato's men were loading the dead man into a body bag. He sent a message to the building janitorial division to have the blood and brains cleaned off the entryway. Despite what Kato said, it would scare the customers coming to visit the cathouse.

He walked across the corridor and into Clouds. He walked directly to Miss Evelyn's room and rang her doorbell. "Miss Evelyn is ..." Fuck, what was that gaki's name? "Is that young'un with you?"

In lieu of answering, she unlocked the door, and he walked in to see that he was. The kid was currently still bawling his eyes out while being mothered by four busty dolls, including Miss Evelyn and Miss Himeko. However, when the kid saw Johnny, his eyes went wide, and he broke out of their embrace to race toward him, yelling, "My mom... is she going to be okay?" However, before Johnny could even reply, the kid asked what seemed like a dozen questions about Doc Gloria.

"Yamero...You need to yamate kudaSTOP..." Johnny said suddenly, unable to take anymore. Sometimes had trouble keeping which language he was trying to speak straight when he got flustered.

Shit, the dolls were glaring at him now. He shook his head, "I don't know anything. I talked to Doc Taylor, and she seemed to think that maybe Doc Gloria might not be dead." He looked down at the kid and pulled out one of the inhalers. She was very clear that he was to turn the dosage selector all the way to the left and cross-check that the dosage displayed decreased as he did so. So he did that, making sure the number was the smallest number possible before handing it to the kid, "Doc Taylor says you're to use this right now. Do you know how?"

He shook his head, so Johnny told him, "Put it in your mouth and press that button while inhaling." He watched the boy do so and took the inhaler from him and replaced it with the other to do the same.

Miss Evelyn asked, "What are these?"

Johnny shrugged, "I dunno. I ain't no bonesaw, ma'am." However, he could take a guess as the kid immediately looked less lively and had stopped bawling and hyperventilating. Some kind of light sedative, probably? He blinked as he got a text from Doc Taylor and sighed. Two things he had to do turned into three so often in his life, so he shouldn't be surprised.

"Anyway, I gotta go now," Johnny said, while he tipped his hat to the dolls, "Ladies."

---xxxxxx---

I swore loudly and inventively as I hung up on the call with Johnny Leung, slamming my hand repeatedly into the steering wheel with enough strength to slightly deform the aluminium underneath the soft polyurethane on the wheel. This gave me immediate pause as I sometimes forgot how strong I was, and I was hitting the steering wheel of my stolen van with significant force. If I broke it and, as a result, the car became inoperative, I would be up shit creek without a paddle. Worst of all, it would be me putting myself there with the mother of all unforced errors.

As much as I wanted to break down, all I could allow myself to do was scream at the situation, "Why has everything gone wrong?!" I glanced at the in-car navigation system and auto drive, very thankful that I didn't have to operate the car while ventilating Kiwi. I would have made it work, somehow, but I was inordinately glad I didn't need to.

Glancing around the interior of the vehicle, I was looking for something like a napkin or paper towel. Something I could use to wipe the tears that appeared to be welling up in my eyes, but the vehicle was spotless, without the clutter of yesterday's fast-food bag that sometimes accumulated in one's car.

Finally, giving up, I just used the side of my hands, sighing and slowing my breathing. I had a lot of different breathing and meditation techniques in my brain that were, according to my medical sense, very effective at relaxing a person. As all of them worked in a similar way, I picked one at random and began breathing in a pattern through my nose, holding my breath for a specific amount of time before exhaling through my mouth.

I wished I had some cameras inside my clinic or some way to remotely access Kumo-kun from here, but I didn't think either of those things was a good idea. Kumo-kun was ridiculously dangerous if you were within its sphere of influence, so giving any kind of avenue for hackers to connect to any of its machinery was a bad idea. Also, I occasionally worked in nothing but my bra and panties in there, especially if I was doing electronics work, so a net-accessible camera was asking for trouble there, too.

However, if Johnny did as I asked, then Kumo-kun should be keeping Gloria's brain oxygenated the best he could. By telling it to oxygenate with a vampire cuff, it would mechanically connect the carotid arteries and jugular veins to my heart-lung bypass machine.

It was extracorporeal oxygenation, used, for example, when you needed to perform surgery on or replace either the lungs or the heart. Every cybernetics surgeon, even the terrible ones, had such bypass machines because the heart and lungs were one of the most popular organs to replace, and for a good reason, as the bog-standard organic human heart and lungs weren't the best designed. But, of course, normally, you wouldn't connect the device this way, as it would only oxygenate the brain and head.

It was emergency first aid of the very last resort, taken with the idea that anything that wasn't the brain could be replaced. Kumo-kun had only practised this procedure in simulations, obviously, and I hoped very much it was doing it properly.

I was as worried for David almost as much as I was worried for Gloria, too. I had told Johnny to dose the kid with an anxiolytic, as well as my experimental, almost entirely Tinkertech drug. I didn't have a name for it, and it was just labelled experimental amnesia compound number three, despite the fact that it didn't entirely cause amnesia anymore.

I glanced at the unconscious man that was seatbelted into the passenger seat. The drug was based on the same drug that I had just used on the driver of this van. However, instead of temporarily disconnecting the short and long-term memory portions of the brain, it sought to disconnect the memories from the emotions you were feeling at the time you experienced them.

It didn't entirely work, but I thought that was all to the better as I intended its use to be exactly as I had instructed Johnny to use it today, as a drug to be used directly after an extremely traumatic event. If taken, it would make the last couple of hours as though you watched a film or read a novel instead of experiencing it. In my tests, using myself as the guinea pig, you wouldn't lose any memories, but they would be slightly disassociated.

That didn't mean you wouldn't feel emotions about them, though, because there had been both films and novels that I had read that caused me to cry like a baby, but the purpose was to untangle the Gordian knot of post-traumatic stress before it got too large. You'd still have to work through all of your experiences, but the idea was to head off irrational self-destructive feedback loops before they got too carried away. Honestly, I intended to take a dose of the drug myself when I got home too. I was just trying not to think about things right now.

I didn't know if administering a barely tested psychoactive Tinkertech drug to David was the correct decision. Still, I thought that I probably would have wanted it myself right after hearing that my mom had died, especially since I had been trying to call her on the phone at the time of the accident. It had been almost impossible to separate the irrational guilt I had felt for years. I knew, intellectually, that there was no way to know she was driving when I called, as well as that it was her responsibility not to be distracted while driving, but there was no way I could have emotionally felt that, much less even admit it. It wasn't until, well, maybe a year ago, that I came to this conclusion.

Watching your mother get, effectively, murdered in front of you... no, I thought what I was doing was the correct decision, even if, as I hoped, I made it home in time to stabilise her. David was intelligent, but little boys were little boys, and little boys were stupid. There was a vast gulf between intelligence and smarts. He was likely thinking some ridiculous thing about how he should have been able to save her, and it was best to head off the guilt feedback loop as soon as possible. All the drug would do would allow him to look back on the events honestly instead of focusing on the emotions he was feeling at the time.

Nodding, I glanced at Kiwi as I continued to ventilate her, squeezing the bag rhythmically with a free hand. Glancing at her neck, I sighed and composed a text message to Johnny Leung. I needed him to meet me at the parking garage with a few things. A gurney would be best, but I didn't have one. But I did have some immobilisation devices. I would get a lot of stares just carrying her back up to my clinic, but if I kept using four stacks of ten thousand eddies and duct tape as a make-shift C-spine collar? While carrying a suspiciously full duffle bag? No, that wouldn't fly, even in my building.

Looking ahead at a minor traffic jam, I started hyperventilating again before catching myself and frowning, trying to find a way around it on the net, but the current path seemed to be the fastest route, even including the traffic. Still, it would likely double the estimated time to return to my building, which I didn't like the sound of at all.

Sighing, I started writing a message to Wakako, although I was ignoring her attempts to call me at the moment. I definitely wasn't going to make our meeting, and she would have to come to see me at my home. She also needed to know what had happened, especially since Jean was still, theoretically, alive.

I couldn't imagine he was in particularly good shape after being ejected from a previously moving vehicle. I hoped that the driver of the large truck we collided with wasn't injured too badly, but our van had hit it obliquely, tipped over and spun out. But she needed to know, and she had a strong motive to track him down as he almost stole from her and almost ruined the whole gig. I couldn't think about him anymore, though, because when I did, I started slightly dropping into a homicidal rage, which wasn't helpful to me at all right now.

Wakako was also the one for whom I had made tentative plans for my "ace in the hole" plan, which, the more I thought about it, the more I felt I probably needed to enact. "Ace in the hole" was Alt-Dad's term, and it made it sound much cooler than it was. To be more accurate, I could have called it the "she bravely turned her tail and fled" plan.

I'd like to say that I spent the rest of the car ride plotting my revenge, but I honestly just never wanted to see Jean again. There was a very good chance he only managed to get away to die of some internal injuries shortly after. If that wasn't the case, I didn't think anything I was willing to do would be worse than what Wakako would likely plan out. I just wanted him dead; I didn't have a large organisation and reputation as a fixer that demanded that people who betrayed me be made an object lesson.

Shaking my head, I just waited for the ride to be over while doing a little first aid on myself. My liver was in a failover mode; although I didn't think it was damaged, some of the arterial connections to it were. I went ahead and shut it down completely, for now, though, as I didn't need slow internal bleeding in case there was damage that wasn't being detected. Although the liver was a vital organ necessary for survival, it would take some time for me to die without it. Toxins had to build up, after all. My nanosurgeons had already stopped most of the bleeding in my organic bits, so I wasn't really in that much acute danger anymore.

It took almost twenty minutes to get back instead of the ten I had estimated. I took manual control of the van as it turned into my Megabuilding's parking structure. I didn't drive to my spaces, but directly next to the elevators, where I saw Johnny Leung and a few other minions. I didn't know how the hierarchy of the Tyger Claws worked, but the idea that Johnny was in some sort of supervisory capacity was hard to imagine. Thankfully, I saw the bag of my equipment at his feet. I had brought a small trauma bag with me on the gig, but mainly just first aid supplies, most of which I had on top of the pile of cash.

I kept the van running but opened the driver's door and yelled, "Johnny! Come here; bring that bag."

He walked... nay, he moseyed over to the open driver's side door, thrust the bag out to me and said, "Here you go, ma'am." I grabbed it quickly and pulled it into the car, setting it on the lap of the unconscious man I had carjacked. I unzipped the bag and pulled out a number of things, including one of my ventilators which I regretted not taking with me on the gig.

Ripping a ventilator circuit out of the plastic bag, I quickly set it up and programmed it to provide the best ventilation possible, given the fact that I didn't have any oxygen bottles with me. That shouldn't really be an issue, though, as she stopped breathing due to physical trauma to her spinal cord, preventing her hypothalamus from transmitting signals that keep her body in homeostasis. It wasn't like she had pneumonia or injuries to her lungs and needed one hundred per cent oxygen, although that would have been better.

I pulled the cash carefully off her neck, replacing it with a C-spine collar and hummed. Then I took two of the four stacks of cash that I used to immobilise her neck and stuffed them down the shirt of the unconscious man. I was so worried that I didn't even blush at the sight of his muscled chest and abdomen.

Getting out of the front of the van, I walked around to the back to get everything. I picked up the duffle bag first, carrying it via a strap as I settled the running ventilator just below Kiwi's breasts, resting against her tummy as I then lifted her out of the van. I gave Johnny a side-eye and said, "I need one of your men to drive this vehicle somewhere safe that isn't here and leave it there with this guy in the passenger seat. Make sure nobody steals anything from the van or the guy."

Johnny had remained quiescent as I unloaded the van and lifted Kiwi out using my hand to expertly cradle her head to prevent any further damage. He didn't comment on the obviously injured woman in my arms other than a slight tilting of his head.

Johnny was wearing a pair of genuine Levi's, a faux-leather gun belt that also had a shorter version of a katana's sheath stuffed in a loop on the opposite hip to his pistol. I knew such a smaller sword was called something else, but I couldn't recall the actual word in Japanese, nor did I particularly care. He also had a pair of cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. I thought he looked kind of silly, but honestly, I owed him a lot if Gloria could be saved. After I made my request, he hummed for a moment before turning to one of the men and saying in Japanese, "Tanaka, take this vehicle to the parking garage across the street from Jinguji and leave it there, yeah? Do not molest or take anything from the man or the van. Return immediately on the NCART."

The mook nodded and jumped into the driver's seat, and started driving away after Johnny closed the back doors of the van for me. I started walking quickly to the elevator. If Kiwi wasn't in my arms, I would be running.

I quizzed Johnny about what happened while we walked, getting a better understanding. I was pretty sure this was the friend that Ruslan implied was in the process of kidnapping Gloria and David. Kidnapping two people when you only had one person to do it seemed foolish, and there was no telling what precisely happened.

We did get a few stares from the looky-loos as we walked to my apartment, but it wasn't exactly that unusual a sight, I supposed. I had injured people brought to me by the Claws, although not that often. I eyed the janitorial worker who was sullenly cleaning up what had to be the remains of blood stains off the wall right next to my door. From what Johnny had told me, he was a decisive man, at least which I approved of. He had shot the guy almost before he left my clinic.

I opened my door with my implants, suddenly scared as to what I would find inside. All Johnny had told me was that Kumo-kun started to do things that he found quite disturbing, which sounded about right, but I wouldn't know if Gloria was salvageable until I entered the room. However, unlike Schrödinger's cat, what had happened had already happened. There was no quantum superposition to collapse here, so remaining outside would just be rank cowardice. Sighing, I stepped inside quickly, being followed by the Samurai Gunman.

"Ah, good, the Demon Wind left," Johnny said, his tone brightening as I looked for a place I could set Kiwi down, frowning at the poor choices all around. Finally, I cleaned my long workbench off as well as I could and rested her there for a moment as I walked over to see the state of Gloria, wincing as my eyes took in her injuries.

Although I was curious about this Demon Wind, I asked him, "Can you see if Mr Jin will lend me the gurney in Clouds' clinic?" There was a rolling gurney in that room, kind of like what I would have found in a hospital back in Brockton Bay, with no technology installed at all, nothing as my biobed had. But it would prevent her from waking up and rolling off my work table, and killing herself.

Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, "He's in a meeting with the bosses, but I 'spect he wouldn't have an issue. Let me go get it."

I ignored Johnny leaving as I looked down at Gloria's body. The sensors that Kumo-kun placed on her were, of course, reporting that she had flatlined and that she had no detectable SPo2 levels, which wasn't surprising because the pulse oximeter sensor was on her finger. With the vampire cuff on, she would not have any oxygen or blood perfusing her extremities at all.

I unclipped the sensor and clipped it onto her earlobe, getting a good reading of about ninety per cent, which was a good sign. I let out a sigh, seeing that Kumo-kun had succeeded. I didn't know how long her brain was without oxygen, but it didn't seem to be that long, given Johnny's story and Kumo-kun had performed the procedure correctly.

The damage to her body was... catastrophic, though. Much more than what I was expecting two shots from a shotgun to accomplish. I noticed the likely weapon the dead man used as I walked into the clinic and went and picked it up, frowning. It was a short-barreled, break-action, double-barreled shotgun. Opening the breach, I ejected two shotgun shells that were much larger than twelve gauge. Writing on the side of the weapon was in Cyrillic text, and part of it read in all caps, "ЦНИИТОЧМАШ."

My Kiroshi optics switched automatically to a measuring mode, detecting my intent with the scanner pulling up and measuring the barrel to be almost exactly 23 millimetres. That was a significantly larger diameter than a twelve gauge and instantly answered my question as to the extent of Gloria's injuries. It looked like she had been shot in the chest four, five or six times instead of twice like Johnny suggested.

Shaking my head, I tossed the weapon aside and put on some nitrile gloves and turned to her body, mentally vacillating between a few treatment plans as I inspected the damage close up. I was now positive that I could save her life, so I relaxed some, but I wasn't sure I could save much of her body.

Every organ in her torso was damaged beyond repair, and her body had already begun necrotising due to the lack of oxygen, although that could be fixed. Her spine was completely destroyed from below the brainstem. Everything was just fucked. If I had unlimited time, I was certain I could repair everything, but I was very worried that I didn't.

When the door opened, I spun around, my hand dropping to the pistol on my thigh for a moment before I recognised Johnny rolling in a hospital-style gurney. "Put it over here," I ordered him while I removed the gloves I was wearing and tossed them into a special red medical waste trash receptacle that I kept on hand. I easily picked up Kiwi again and placed her carefully in the bed, and spent a couple of minutes connecting an IV to her and starting some opiates and other sedatives to keep her from waking up.

Kiwi was in critical condition, but any hospital in Night City could handle her injuries, but that was asking for her to be murdered. I was worried about the same for Gloria, too, actually. I honestly didn't know how much time I had, but I was hoping I could ask Wakako's opinion when she came around. She had already texted me, telling me she would arrive when she could.

The problem was that our "car accident" would be quickly investigated and determined to be something else. The van was shot to shit, and there was a high likelihood that it would be linked to the running street battle that occurred not too far from the accident site. If that happened, Biotechnica would muscle in on the investigation. Ruslan's body was right there and could be identified. In fact, all of our genetic material was in the van. Mine, obviously, was from getting shot. Kiwi's nose was broken in the crash, and Jean went through a window.

I had wanted to torch the van before I left, but I didn't want to do it while carrying Kiwi; plus, I didn't have that much experience doing anything like that. I suppose I could have cut the fuel line easily enough with the van on its side, but I didn't have anything handy to light the subsequent fuel on fire, and I knew that randomly shooting a puddle of CHOOH2 didn't actually set it on fire, despite what the films and BDs would like you to believe.

I felt that immediately leaving the scene was more important than fucking around and maybe getting caught by the NCPD, even if that caused me problems later on. I was pretty positive that it would, but I didn't think my choice was wrong. Sighing, I glanced over at the hatbox I kept on one of my shelves.

---xxxxxx---

Wakako arrived about an hour and a half later with two gorilla-sized men, which I presumed were acting as bodyguards. She rang the doorbell politely rather than let herself in, which I appreciated. When she walked in, she glanced around, and not seeing Gloria, her eyes softened a bit, and she asked, trailing off politely, "Did Miss Martinez...?"

I turned around. Kiwi was in the biobed now. I had completely stabilised her, and I just needed some supplies to fix her completely. She required a cybernetic replacement for part of the nervous tissue in her spinal cord, but this was a pretty common and temporary fix. It would get her walking around, but the definitive treatment was replacing the damaged nervous tissue with cloned replacement, nanorepair in a biosculpt tank or an entire spinal replacement; for example, a Kerenzikov installation would also work.

I was assuming she didn't tolerate boostware as well as I did, plus I didn't have a spare one lying in my stocks, so I was just going to get her on her feet. I, or another doctor, could fix her definitively with about twelve hours in a biosculpt tank. A biosculpt tank was one of the things I was going to buy today because I could convert it easily enough to also function as cloning equipment.

I shook my head and said, "She's still alive and will be fine, but her body was a write-off." I motioned to the modified hatbox that was sitting on my workbench. My original hatbox was designed only to store brains, but most Borg bio-pods included portions of the spine as well, so I quickly modified it to those specifications.

Her previous body, I had already placed in a body bag. I didn't want any chance David might see it again. I didn't have the equipment to clone her an entire replacement body yet, although I intended to get Wakako to get it for me. That said, I could fairly easily get a Gemini ordered from Raven Microcybernetics on the black, grey or above-board market. They cost over two hundred and fifty thousand Eurodollars for a stock model, but that would be a small price to pay to get Gloria on her feet again.

If she wanted to keep it, that would be fine too. If not, then I could clone her a replacement biological body and perform a brain transplant, and I could sell the Gemini as gently used for almost the full price. I was definitely willing to spend a quarter of a million eurodollars to make Gloria whole again. If she wanted a cloned body, she was getting one that was improved significantly over baseline, anyway.

She brightened at that, "I'm a little curious why you happened to have a brain life support pod on hand, but that is secondary, I suppose. I'm glad she is alive, in a sense, but what are your plans? For yourself, her and Miss Kiwi? Let's take a moment and discuss how things went wrong on the gig."

I nodded and said, "Let's go into my apartment; it's more comfortable. If your mooks don't mind standing guard out here?"

One of the mooks definitely seemed to mind, but Wakako waved him off, saying, "I very much doubt Taylor intends me harm. It's fine."

We walked into my apartment, and Wakako raised an eyebrow as she followed me in, "If you want, feel free to change out of that ruined dress if you like. Also, are you shot?"

I glanced behind me at her, "I mean, a little... it's fine, though. I'm not bleeding anymore," I told her but thought about it and nodded, "Yes, if you don't mind, I'm going to take a quick shower unless there is anything pressing you need me to tell you now?"

She snorted, amused, "No. I pretty much understand the broad strokes of what happened. I do have some news, but it isn't immediately pressing."

I wondered what that could mean but just nodded. I went into my bathroom and stripped out of my ballistic vest, holster, dress and underthings and stood in the hot shower, washing the caked blood and grime off me for a couple of minutes. While in the shower, I programmed my techhair to its full curliness and restored my natural hair colour, but I decided to keep the length. I liked long hair, and since attending basic, I have been growing mine back out again.

I redressed in one of my business-casual outfits and replaced the holster on my thigh before I returned to the living room with a towel over my head. I did feel quite a bit better just for the shower. Wakako had made some tea in my kitchen, which was nice, I supposed. I sat on my couch and sipped the tea in front of me. I wasn't that worried that Wakako would poison me.

Well, actually, I was a little worried, but things had deteriorated to the point where I had no backup plan but to trust her. In fact, Wakako featured heavily in my "ace in the hole" plan. If she wanted to tie up loose ends with me as one of them, all I could do was hopefully take her with me. I also had a packet of information that would automatically forward to a number of people if I suddenly went missing. I had already updated that packet of information, too, to specify that it was likely Wakako responsible, which would damage her reputation quite a bit.

My first idea for a deadman's switch involved highly infectious pathogens secreted on my body. My medical sense was kind of sociopathic at times, I felt. I had the feeling that it was like a happy, sociopathic puppy. "So, are we sure it was Biotechnica that attacked us? It seems unlikely that it could have been someone else," I told her.

Wakako nodded, "I'm almost positive it was Biotechnica, but I am not positive it was my contact yet. I'm giving him an opportunity to clear his own name. He is suggesting it is one of his former peers, attempting to both screw him over and get something for themselves at the same time."

I rubbed the back of my neck, near where my cyberdeck was, and drew on all of Alt-Taylor's memories that I could. That sounded plausible. His boss died, and he was merely acting as the boss temporarily. His former peers would likely have the opportunity to get information about the exchange and possibly sabotage it. The saboteur wouldn't want to completely sabotage it, but enough sense of betrayal to get Wakako to murder his or her rival while still getting everything Biotechnica wanted was a possibility.

If so, then maybe they were just grasping at straws. I was working under the impression that they knew, somehow, that the inventor, myself, was at the exchange and were trying to kidnap me. The little power plays that I had ignored and most of the questions they asked pointed to that possibility.

If not, then it didn't necessarily mean they wouldn't still be searching for me; it just meant the intensity of their search would be less. Corporate bullshit... it was so wearying.

I'd like very much to burn the entire Corporation to the ground, but that wasn't a realistic scenario. If I wanted to get even, I would have to do it like I had done that Mercenary leader. I'd have to do it in such a way as nobody realised the damage was from me. Was such an act of private revenge merely spite, I wondered?

I shook my head, "Our agreement was that any perfidy and we would release the data, possibly publicly. What do you recommend?"

Her mouth made a fine line, "Not a public release, but we do have to do something. My contact expects as much, and it would simply be seen as a sign of weakness if we didn't follow through. I recommend we give or sell the research to one of their competitors. This will cost them about half their profits, as they'll definitely come to some sort of agreement with that Corporation, and the drug will likely be released as some sort of joint venture."

"I'm done trying to sell this thing. I got what I wanted out of it. I'll release a copy of the research to Trauma Team; they have a small pharmaceutical research division and have four times the military strength as Biotechnica, so they can't really be pushed around," I said after barely a moment's thought. I shook my head and said sourly, "Besides, I might have to resign with immediate effect there, which wouldn't be in accordance with my employment contract." I left it unstated because it sounded like a weakness, but I would feel I owed them something in that case.

Wakako raised an eyebrow, "So you're planning on wanting that new identity after all? Your requirements were kind of stringent -- a real person, female, with no real family or friends and a legitimate degree in medicine." Wakako shook her head, "I do have such an identity; she had been kidnapped by Maelstrom and forced to act as a surgeon for them and was killed when the clinic they had her stashed in was raided a couple of weeks ago. Nobody knows she is dead... yet, but it will be difficult to just slide into her identity, even with surgery to resemble her. A lot of things are taste-locked these days, and her genome is definitely on file."

Taste-lock was a slang word for rapid genome testing for identity verification, and Wakako was implying that I would be discovered as soon as I applied for a job using the stolen, well, inherited identity. I didn't believe you could steal from the dead, and she allegedly didn't have any family left.

I waved a hand, "It shouldn't be that difficult, so long as you can find me a sample of her DNA."

"Are you implying what I think you're implying?" Wakako asked amusedly, "Because if you are, then that is what I will want as payment for this favour. Four times. I often have people who might need a new start, so to speak, and genetics clinics that can actually adjust someone's genome specifically are heavily scrutinised by, well, everyone."

I pursed my lips and said simply, "Hypothetically, if it becomes known I could do such a thing, then it would ruin my disguise. People would wonder if I was who I claimed to be." She was correct, though. It was usually only serious secret squirrel types who could get a full genome change for a fake or assumed identity. I'd need to buy or acquire some tools, but I was absolutely certain I could fashion a virus to accomplish the change in a person, even if it took multiple re-infections over a few weeks.

"I'm going to be the only one who knows your new identity, and I'm sure we could arrange some sort of anonymous way for you to accomplish it for anyone I send you, even if I have to send the person unconscious for the entire treatment," she said reasonably.

I frowned. I'd rather pay in Eurodollars, but finally, I nodded, "Only one time, though. Four is way too much, considering how much such a service would cost you if you could ever find someone to do it."

"Three times," she countered, and then we settled on twice. She seemed inordinately pleased, so I suspected I might have gotten ripped off. I didn't actually know what the black market going rate for a genome duplication was, but I started to suspect it was more than I thought it was if it was available as a service at all.

She immediately sent me a digital file, which was a complete dossier on a woman that was named "Hasumi Sakura." A woman of twenty-nine years old and a number of centimetres shorter than me. I frowned. Lotus and cherry blossom characters in the same name? Not only was the name excessively flowery, but...

I complained, "Mrs Okada, I don't speak Japanese. I barely recognise the characters in this name! I also know none of the cultural referents for someone who grew up in Japan," I complained, "Don't you have any European or American choices?"

She shook her head, "No. How often do you think doctors die without anyone knowing in Night City? You're lucky I had any. We would have to have gone with a totally fake identity unless you want me to kidnap and do away with some doctor so you could steal her identity?" She asked the last with amusement, and I shook my head.

She shrugged, "Then just get a high-quality Japanese language skill chip. The best ones will teach you the language after using it for half a year. Besides, are you planning on living the rest of your life as Dr Hasumi?" she asked, a slightly unbelieving tone to her voice.

I shrugged, "Only if I very much have to. I'd like to resume my actual identity if I know I'm not being hunted down like a dog. I just think it is better to assume I am being hunted right now and leave everything behind for a few years."

"Then who cares? Are there any real objections?" she asked imperiously.

I sighed and reviewed her file again, frowning. I was hoping I could vanish for a few years, then return as my actual identity. I didn't want to abandon the name Hebert unless keeping it would get me killed. I wasn't so proud if it cost me my life.

As soon as I realised that I would likely have to disappear, though, I realised that my idea of going to medical school was dead along with it. I didn't think I needed the education provided. I just wanted the credential and if I was honest, more experience of "college life." Even when I got back under my own identity, I was leaning towards bribing someone in one of the medical schools to just give me a degree. I was sure I would excel regardless.

Finally, I frowned and complained, "Dr Hasumi graduated from a dual PhD, and MD degree program in Kyoto, but she never actually worked as a resident, so she isn't really a doctor. She's also a citizen of Japan, although she has a visa to work in the NUSA. Do you know why she was in the country at all?" I doubted very much that Maelstrom cared that she wasn't technically allowed to practise medicine, but anywhere I wanted to work would, or if I wanted to start my own practice.

Wakako shrugged, "No, I don't. But it isn't that uncommon for Japanese physicians to come work in the NUSA. What does that mean, precisely, that she was never a resident?"

"It just means I would have to get a job as a medical resident for at least a year, perhaps longer," I sighed. It wasn't really an insurmountable issue, and I was sure I could get hired at a teaching hospital fairly easily. I would also have to deeply research whatever research focus she received her PhD in. People, especially doctors, would ask about it and if I didn't know it backwards and forwards, well, that would be a clue I wasn't actually Dr Hasumi.

I downed the rest of my tea in one large gulp. "I'll need a new identity for Gloria and her son, too. Maybe Kiwi, too. Those can be fake, obviously." It was a lot easier to pass a fake identity that didn't have any credentials associated with it. In fact, plain fake identities like this were a dime a dozen everywhere because record keeping since the DataKrash was a lot worse than it was before. Reducing or adding height through biosculpt was possible, but it took a very long time. So I was going to be spending a significant amount of time in the tank before I could pass myself off as Dr Hasumi.

Speaking of which, "I need to acquire a full biosculpt setup as soon as possible. If possible, I'd rather not have to pay full price for it, either." I was basically asking her to send some of her mercs to steal it for me, which caused Wakako's eyes to gleam.

"Why, what a coincidence; I happen to know a few clinics that are owned by Biotechnica. I can get you what you need for fifty thousand," she replied, probably amused at combining revenge and profit. Considering that was one-tenth of what such a setup cost, I felt it was a good deal and also approved of stealing it from Biotechnica. She coughed and said, "Oh, that reminds me... the news I was going to give you. I think you'll be happy to know that I found Jean."

I winced. I was kind of glad that he wouldn't be looming after me in the future, somehow like a jump scare in a scary movie, just waiting for the right time to startle me. That said, he was my friend once. I didn't want to participate or even know about what was likely going to happen to him; I just wanted to never see him again. I sighed, "Where was he?"

"He was fairly injured but managed to get away. Stole a car, similar to you, although the driver wasn't treated as well as yours. It would have probably taken me longer to pick him up, but he went straight to a net runner with a cred chip he claimed had two million eddies on it, as well as a virus," she raised an eyebrow at that and spread her arms wide, "Turns out it didn't have any money on it, but by that time the word was already out that I wanted him so the runner just called me and we picked him up."

I sighed. I didn't even bother pulling that datashard out of my bag when I fled the van, so I hadn't noticed that it was, apparently, missing. From this story, it sounded like he had klepped it before the accident, perhaps as soon as I handed him the backpack, which would track. Poor fucker. "I, of course, transferred the money more or less immediately, but I pretended like I still needed the datashard so as not to rub the Biotechnica people's faces in it. I'm sure they did the same thing with the data I gave them, but they pretended to take the chip with them too." I shook my head, "That's standard Corpo politeness, but I guess Jean wouldn't recognise it."

Wakao just nodded, wincing, although her eyes were deeply amused, glittering with promised malice. All she said was, "Ouch. Poor guy."

After that, we discussed how we would split the money. Although I trusted her somewhat, I demanded that she take the bag o' cash first, and then once I had a clean amount of cash, I would transmit the digital currency to wherever she wanted. She was fine with that arrangement. I declined her offer to go "speak with" Jean, merely stating that I never wanted to see him again.

After that, we would get all of my belongings moved to a temporary safe house.

---xxxxxx---

As I was loading most of my personal belongings into boxes, the sample of Dr Hasumi's genome arrived, along with a data storage implant in a clear plastic static-resistant bag. I called Wakako immediately, and she said, "Oh, I thought I would give you this too. We took it out of Dr Hasumi, but it is taste-locked, too."

I raised an eyebrow. It was a somewhat high-end data storage implant, similar to the one I had taken out of Kumo-kun's brain, except instead of encrypting through a continual brain scan, it encrypted through a taste lock of the user's genome. It was a little unusual for a random doctor to have, but people did like their privacy. I asked, "Why in the world did you keep it, then?"

"Oh, simple. SNDL," she said over the phone and then at my silence, she said, "Store now, decrypt later. Who knows when some advance in cryptology will occur that would allow us to decrypt it easily? And information can stay valuable for decades, even information from a dead woman. We don't know who paid for her education. Perhaps her family inheritance paid for it, but maybe she's the secret lover of Yorinobu Arasaka, and knowing that would be worth tons. It's very cheap to do, so why not?"

I supposed that made sense, but I said firmly, "She had better not be the secret lover of Yorinobu Arasaka."

That caused Wakako to laugh, "Oh, there's almost a zero per cent chance of that. There is a chance she got her education paid for by a Corp for some reason, though, but you already knew that risk. Maybe you could find out more about her through the data stored in her implant, even if it is just to improve your legend." Legend, that was another spy word that seemed to roll off Wakako's tongue easily.

I was silent, and then Wakako asked, "Have you decided on your destination?" She knew I intended to leave Night City for at least a year, maybe longer. Not only did I not want to be someone who popped up here as soon as Taylor Hebert disappeared, but I kind of wanted a break from this city. Although I knew it would draw me back eventually because there was something magnetic about the place.

I sighed and double-checked the encryption on the call before saying, "The city of angels. Going north to the Free States would be problematic, and I already have a visa to work in NUSA. The situation in Los Angeles is almost worse than Night City from a crime perspective, and I definitely will be hired at any of the hospitals there for my residency."

The amusing thing was I might end up working for Trauma Team again, as they had a large trauma centre in Hollywood that was associated with the University of California in Los Angeles. I would have to make doubly sure that all of my implants were scrubbed clean of all of the company apps I had installed. Perhaps I would upgrade my deck and operating system and change everything out that way. Although I very rarely used my deck offensively, so I didn't really need an ultra-performance model, it would be nice to upgrade from the beginner's version I was using now.

"Ah, good choice. Not too far away, but at the same time, a world apart. I'll send you a list of places that I would recommend a young Japanese woman to live, as well as a list of places I would highly recommend you stay away from. I'd recommend you get a dual Japanese-Mandarin skillchip, too, then. The Chinese control that city more than we do, but they run it in a similar way," she said amicably. She was implying that there was a Tong or Triad there that was similar to the Tyger Claws, likely, they were friendly with each other. The Claws protected Chinese and other Asian people in Night City in Japantown, and this currently unknown Chinese organisation probably did the same for the Japanese residents of, I presumed Chinatown.

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. I disconnected the call after inquiring when the moving mooks would be here.

I'd have Kiwi up and walking by then. I was willing to take her with me, and Wakako approved doubling the pay and giving it all to Kiwi. She might want to stay in Night City with sixty thousand eddies acquired all at once. I didn't know yet. But I owed her my life and more.

The worst part about this was I was going to have to get rid of my car. That and explaining to David why his mom wouldn't be around for a couple of months and about how his last name is now different. Perhaps I could get Gloria admitted to UCLA as a nursing student while I was in LA?

---xxxxxx---

Todd woke up, drooling on himself, in the rental van. He had hundreds of missed calls on the encrypted tacnet and had a sudden fright that he had, somehow, gotten drunk and missed the op as he did not remember getting in the van.

But the last thing he remembered was he was eating breakfast at the wonderful Azure Plaza. Their team had been ordered to watch this pretty girl for months, with no real reason why. She worked for Trauma Team and didn't look much older than his little sister, so he was mighty curious. But, it didn't really do to ask why in his line of work, and it was an easy assignment.

Apparently, she was something of a badass herself. At least, he got that opinion, along with a slight crush on her, after watching footage from a high-altitude drone of her single-handedly wrecking a Wraith encampment out of the city.

His present assignment was to spend a night in the best hotel in Night City and inform his boss when the girl was leaving the building. Why, then, was he inside his van?

He suspected he might be in some trouble. He sighed, and he learned from his stint in the NUSA Army that it didn't do to prolong this sort of ass chewin', so he got on the tacnet, "Eye-5, reporting in."

The tacnet was suddenly full of chortles and a couple of laughs before his boss got on the line and the rest of the men quieted. His boss was terse, "Eye-5, Eye-1, what's your status?"

"Ah reckon Eye-5's up 'n runnin' just fine, but uhh... it's like ah just done woke up, an' there's a dang..." he glanced at his internal chronometer, "...four-hour hole in mah memory. Apologies, boss, I couldn't rightly let ya know when that ol' target skedaddled on outta here. I think I was drugged, ya?"

"Eye-5, Eye-1, delete your West Virginian folksy bullshit. You don't work for the NUSA anymore. Yeah, you got fucking drugged. Are you serious? You have amnesia? You followed the target as planned, and then intervened when she got into a car accident, and she dosed you with something and stole your van," his boss came back on the line.

One of the others piped up with, "It was hilarious!"

Todd snorted. He didn't particularly care who he worked for. He certainly wasn't an American patriot. Before he got this job, most of his family back home barely survived off home gardens and often did a spell in the slammer for shootin' some critter the government was too fond of, so he had no deep abiding respect for the government like his great grandaddy probably did. He didn't mind working for some rich family, it was pretty much all the same to him, and these fellows paid a lot better, letting him send some money back home, keeping his entire clan in food.

He got back on the radio and, this time, was using purely standard radio phraseology, "Eye-1, Eye-5, Affirmative. I'll need to be examined by the medics. I kind of want to watch my video download now, more than ever. I'll head back to the RP, now," he said amusedly.

When he stood up to slide into the driver's seat, he felt something rough rubbing up against his chest, inside his shirt and blinked. He glanced down into his shirt and raised an eyebrow, seeing two thick stacks of bills. Pulling them out of his shirt, he inspected them, seeing the marking of €10,000 on a band of paper that was holding each stack together. Twenty thousand? Not bad. A little more than he made every two weeks, still, he got on the radio delightedly, "Boys, the drinks are on me tonight!"