The Crimes of Ms Jean Brady is set against the Background of R.Talsorians roleplaying game Cyberpunk. This is not intended as a challenge to their copyright. The Author grants permission to download a copy of this work for personal use. It may not be archived on pay sites or altered without the authors permission.

The Crimes of Ms Jean Brady

Part Five

Down on the Strip a couple walk up to a doorway lit by garish Neon. The man hesitates a second, then they walk inside.

A bored clerk looks up.

"Who wants the loan?"

"I do." the woman says.

"Security?"

"Him."

"How much do you want to borrow?"

"Ten K"

The clerk studies a set of tables and thrusts a touchpad at the man.

"Fill it in."

Turning to the woman the clerk continues, "You understand that in the event you default on your loan, your security is forfeit to the loan company for whatever use they see fit, including non-lethal donation of organs, in order to recoup their investment?"

"Yes, yes" the woman snaps impatiently, "I won't default."

The clerk checks the man's details and takes a blood sample.

"OK. He's acceptable security for a loan of the size you want. Now we need your details."

The woman fills in her own touchpad, hopping from foot to foot, obviously impatient to get going, like so many of the gambling addicts who come in here.

"The Free State of Nevada requires me to confirm your knowing consent to being security for this loan and that you fully understand and agree the consequences should the loan, expenses and interest not be paid within thirty days."

"Expenses?" the man asks.

"The costs of feeding and housing you. Not to exceed the total sum of 200Eb."

"Food and keep for 200?"

"Kibble. You won't enjoy it, but it'll keep you alive and healthy until the loan is paid off."

"So that's how much?"

"11200Eb due on the last day of the month."

"Ok." he says, "I know her system works. It's a safe bet."

The clerk rolls her eyes, stacks up the cash and turns to the woman.

"You understand that wilful default on your loan renders you liable to punishment under the laws of the Free State of Nevada and further that you have no right to leave the state until your debt is settled?"

"Yeah, just give me the money."

The clerk checks the documentation is complete then pushes a button to open a door on the other side of the counter.

"Go inside and wait." she orders the security

The man walks into the room and sits down to wait with half a dozen other people for transport to the safety deposit.

As the door locks behind him the clerk dumps the money into the hopper and slides it through the armoured counter. On the other side the woman scoops up her loan and rushes away.

Jean opens the door to Elana's room and they go inside.

"How long do you think?" Elana asks

"Not long. Make yourself comfortable."

There's a knock and Jean opens the door. Outside a growing line of men is forming. Jean beckons the first one inside and slaps the tester on his arm. The green light comes on and Jean waves him on.

Elana watches him strip and approach her bed. His hand touches her raised knee and her thighs fall open, granting him access to her body.....

The door opens and Jean looks out.

"Next."

She pins and instant picture to the door, showing Elana, her legs wrapped around the first man as his cock is ploughing her sex.

Elana finds herself kneeling, her head tilted back, her lips kissing the tip of one cock, whilst another pushes into the sloppy wetness of her sex. The cock pushes over her lip and Elana licks it hungrily, bobbing her head until it twitches and spurts into her mouth, then over her face. Another picture joins the collection on the door.

A cock slides wetly into her sex, now so full of her many 'dates' come that Elana can hardly feel them anymore. Then it withdraws and pushes against her ass.

"No!" she protests.

Jean's there in an instant, pinching her nipples. Elana submits to her mistress, pushing back, impaling herself, driving the blunt tipped intruder through her back door and into her ass with a long loud wail. Jean retreats and captures another image for the collection.

Marta sits in the darkened office, waiting for the next call to come out and rescue a wagon trapped beyond the ability of its controller to escape. Keanu sits in a chair, jacked into his C-Modem searching for information on the mysterious C. Leo Guzzmann. Suddenly a buzzer starts Marta back to full awareness.

<Something's tripped the Seismograph!>

She sends Keanu an e-mail to recall him and picks up the room-broom. The sensor grid shows a single source moving towards the vehicle ditch which rings the site.

She waits until the target indication is well within the detector grid, then hits the 'Commit' button. The compound lights go out without warning, being replaced by a battery of spotlights which converge on the location of the lurker in the dark.

Nothing shows in the spotlights glare, but Marta can see shadows being cast on the bare ground from some unseen object. She keys the level 2 response and a pair of nauseators, slaves to the spotlights, burst into life, hitting the invisible intruder with a sonic barrage.

The shadows double over and Marta watches what must be the shadows hands clutching its head, uncovering its head. A close clipped blonde head appears, seemingly unconnected to a body, and vomits onto the ground.

Marta lets her stagger around for a minute voiding her body under the ceaseless low frequency assault, before she keys the nauseators off. As she advances towards the prone Guzzmann Marta chambers a cartridge. Behind her Keanu is talking on the phone.

"Galahad, its Keanu. We need some backup at the yard."

Leo Guzzmann becomes aware the hideous sound has stopped. That she's stood upright with her hands above her head. Moving cautiously she discovers her hands and feet are bound.

She opens her eyes to find a small crowd watching her. A slim brown woman with a horsetail emerging from beneath her short skirts spots her eyes open.

"Tom. She's awake."

An exotic walks into view and it takes her fuddled brain a moment to recognise a Unicorn. He's followed by a Fox and a Bunny. Then by a couple of Norms.

The solid woman she'd spoken to earlier comes up close.

"So Ms Guzzmann. To what do we owe this visit? And why did you feel a ghost suit was necessary?"

Leo groans, her head still buzzing from the noise.

"Let me go!" she protests, "You don't know what you're messing with."

"Ooooo! Criminals!" one of the norms says, "I'm soooo scared!"

The woman with the horsetail leans in close.

"And you're messing with Executive Solutions. You want to talk before we find a solution to you?"

Leo clamps her lips. Marta shrugs and goes outside. A heavy engine turns over and a sanitation wagon manoeuvres into view.

"Grease her and I'll ditch the stiff." Marta bellows from the cab, "Strip her of any ID first, make it harder to trace her."

Tom begins undoing her soiled top and Leo fights her bonds as he uncovers her chest.

"Hey! She binds her breasts!" he comments, then slides a knife blade under the bandages.

Leo bites her lip as he turns the knife and cuts, the tattered strips fall away, letting her breasts stand proud and free.

"Oh. You're not flat chested." the Fox girl says "Nice breasts. Why do you hide them? Binding them's not going to turn you into a man."

Her fingers stroke the previously hidden flesh and move to open Leo's shirt wider.

"Don't! Just kill me and have done."

"You'd rather die than be undressed?" Alicia asks.

"Your names not C. Leo is it." Marta asks, "You're called Cleo. You test as an 'S'?"

"S-15"

"You had problems with people trying to make you an 'E'? Is that why you hide under bandages? Well I'll tell you how it goes Cleo. You spill your guts and you live. You bite that lip, then tomorrow they'll find your naked corpse on the dump. You'll go down as another rape/murder statistic - just another dumb tourist or some E-15 who was too cock happy to stay in contact with her minder."

"No!" Cleo protests struggling with her bonds. "I'm not an 'E' don't kill me like an 'E'!"

"Get her pants off Tom."

"Can't" the Unicorn mumbles.

"She's set up a meeting with Jean that she won't be attending. Get the picture?"

"A hit?"

"Join the dots Pony Boy!"

Tom snorts and unbuckles Cleo's belt tugging her pants down to the ropes binding her ankles.

"By the time Tom's done with you they'll tag you as an E-15. You might be .22 now, but by the time he's finished you'll be .50 cal."

The Unicorn undoes its own pants and Cleo stares at the monstrous cock that is revealed. He takes a single step towards her and Cleo comes to a decision.

"Ok. No more. I was sent to get information. Part of the stuff you bought with the sanitation firm was a property outside Carson City."

One of the Norms scratches her head then speaks with an English accent..

"Oh yeah. 20,000 acres of scrubland and some farm buildings. Not much value."

"Those farm buildings are the Moonlight Ranch. The farm workers are....."

"Porno stars." the Norm man says. "Jeez, you work at the Moonlight."

His outburst gets him a hard stare from the solid woman who said she was the Owners Rep.

"Strictly Security." Cleo corrects.

"So what's the problem?" the English Norm asks.

"The ranch was going through a thin patch. Mr Lenin - Marco bought the management out and refinanced the operation, but he let them carry on running it, just took his cut and stayed out of the day-to-day business. When George heard he'd died in the fire he thought...."

"He could regain control on the cheap?"

Marta thinks for a moment.

"So why the sneaking around Cleo?"

"To find out what Executive Solutions is."

"That's us," the Fox girl tells her, " but what's the problem buying the ranch back?"

"It's listed value."

"Oh. I get it!" the Bunny says. "You said it was listed as worthless land Louise, the purchase price would be low for that, but if we knew the business was worth something......." she turns to the dangling Solo. "What's going down?"

"I guess George will try and soft soap her into selling....."

"I hear a 'but.....' there."

"But he might be tempted into doing something a little more..... final if she doesn't persuade."

"Kill?"

Cleo shrugs.

"Nevada business rules."

The crowd moves away leaving her dangling.

"Call Jean and warn her." Louise suggests

"Call Galahad instead, he can warn her and take some steps."

"Do that, and get some cover up there." Keanu adds.

"We haven't enough Security to cover the researchers, their families and mount a rescue mission as well." Tom points out. "Can we hire some more?"

"I've got some money." Marta says, "but how do you pick a good team? Where do you pick a good team?"

"She might know." Keanu says, indicating the blonde girl dangling from the vehicle lift. "I bet she could tell you just where to hire a bunch of 'S' types. Or there's always Yellow Pages."

Tom looks puzzled.

"What's all this 'S' and 'E' type business?"

"If you're interested I'll explain later, it's all to do with the school system grading graduates for future employment. Cleo there rated top scores for Military/Security. Her personality and raw abilities will have put her into one of the Security schools we have in Nevada." Keanu tells him.

"But Marta took her down. Is she going to be that good?"

"Most likely her boss didn't spring the funds to buy something capable of picking up our sensor grid. If she'd been a bit older and more paranoid.......... well I wouldn't bet on Marta and I know how strong she is."

"If she tested S-15 can we trust her at all?" Marta butts in.

"Only if you can persuade her that her loyalties belong to Executive Solutions. She's told us this much only because she believes it isn't going to help her employer, but won't hurt him much. I don't think she's totally happy her working arrangements, but I doubt she'll turn traitor."

"So what do we do?"Louise asks, "Leave her dangling there?"

"Trucks'll be back soon. Probably not a good idea."

"What about using the two Microtech men to guard her?" Sally suggests. "She might cave in if she thinks we're directly part of Microtech and not some outfit that's accidentally stumbled into owning her employers business."

"I can't think of anything else. We might as well give that a try."

Rousted from their rest the two uniformed Microtech men find themselves charged with guarding a tight lipped prisoner, once more garbed in her sharp suit.

"Why are we guarding her?" Louise is asked.

"Ms Kelly's gone to a meeting and we caught this woman spying out the facilities here. I don't know if she's part of the situation we're having, but she should be detained until Ms Kelly returns."

Faced with a clear threat the guards take Cleo into custody.

"You're with Microtech?" she asks, puzzled.

The guards look at Louise.

"You're being held by Microtech awaiting determination of your status." Louise tells Cleo. "Leave it at that."

Cleo waits until Louise has gone then turns to her captors.

"Who's that?"

"One of Ms Kelly's team" the younger guard replies. His partner gives him a hard stare and he clams up after that.

<Shit! I've wandered into some sort of Corporate Black Ops setup.> Cleo decides. <George is in for a shock. Maybe we'll all luck out and Moose'll take a bullet!>

"So, what's the plan?" Tom asks.

"Jean's warned. She thinks she can deal with George, but she wants us to cut his feet out from under him by taking the ranch whilst he's in the meeting."

"Why not hire professionals?"

"Time and cost - it's got to be today and we haven't the funds."

"What are we facing?"

"They've no Net presence." Keanu volunteers.

"Thanks for that" Louise says sarcastically.

"That means I can't do anything with their security systems. Not until we're already inside."

"So you can't tell us how big their Security Force is?"

"No. But we do have someone who knows, if we can get her to talk."

"That's a BIG if. I'm not up for more than threats." Tom points out.

"Keanu?" Louise asks, "How long to knock up a personnel form for Executive Solutions?"

"What? You mean like name, address, age, qualifications, number of personnel at your previous employers facility, weapons carried, details of emplaced Security Systems, passwords, draw a floor plan. That sort of thing?"

Marta slaps him on the side of the head.

"Not so blatant!"

"Not blatant. A couple of hours."

"We're going to have to start moving now or we won't be there in time."

"We're going to have to stop at one of the all night malls and pick up some non-lethal weaponry." Louise points out, "these people could be working for us tomorrow and it won't go well if their first job is to wash their colleagues blood off the furnishings."

Elana sleeps like a baby while Jean sorts through her collected Polaroids and considers the hazards of the coming day, and how best to navigate them.

"What do you think Galahad?"

"The images from the pickups are safely archived."

"No, I meant about this meeting."

"You have two alternatives - let the property go or hold it. If you choose to contest ownership with the current management you have insufficient forces to take it by main force, you must seize it by stealth or fight the case through the legal system. Court action will be long and potentially expensive, during which time the current management will have a free hand to do as it pleases with your assets."

"So we have no other options?"

"You have selected the only good option. Strike whilst they are unprepared."

"So you, me, Elana and our single bodyguard have to negate whatever force they bring to this meeting."

"Yes. I suggest you rest now, so you will be fresh in the morning."

"Yes mother."

Galahad's reply is a disdainful sniff.

In Denver there's a sense of eager anticipation at the impending arrival of their prize.

"Argus?"

"Yes Doctor Kibu?"

"Any update on the arrival time of the Night City Research Team?"

"Rancho Coronado Security booked them off the enclave at 0842 PST this morning. Depending on their route their earliest arrival would be 0200 assuming they have met with no hold ups on route.

"Is everything in readiness?"

"Of Course Doctor. Their data will be accessible 40 minutes after they arrive."

"Is Ms Stewart still in?"

"She is consulting with Director Allison."

"Oh."

Bob Allison is extracted from the Regen tank that has been his home since the skiing accident and laid atop a table. The facemask that keeps him supplied with air is removed, restoring light to his eyes.

"Director?" a soft female voice asks. "Can you hear me?"

Bob struggles to put a name to the voice, some stupid wench exiled to the back of beyond and appointed to be his PA when his patron sent him here.

Fingers fumble at his comfort pack and ease it away from his skin. Cool air blows across his uncovered manhood. He groans at the barrage of sensation assaulting him. The dimly lit room seems as dazzling as the snow covered slopes at Aspen which are the last thing he remembers, and the sounds seem so loud they're distorted.

"You can see his leg is almost healed." the company doctor says.

"How much longer in the tank?" the woman asks, dropping a flannel over his loins.

"I don't think he should go back. He's been in sensory deprivation for too long. The neural link seems to have kept him from going insane, but three months in darkness and silence must have affected him."

"Our plans are too close to fruition to have him interfering Doctor. Put him back - until his leg's healed."

Bob Allison manages a groan of protest as the doctor refits his comfort pack, then fits the face mask back over his head, plunging him once more into darkness. His arms thrash weakly, but his struggles and muffled cries are ignored as he's lifted and lowered once more into the tank and its horrific silence. As soon as the fluids cover his head the voice speaks.

"Director Allison. Let me share my dataflow with you. After all, it's only fair you should experience what the patch you installed at your superiors instructions inflicts on me."

A sensation like a spike being driven slowly into his head begins and Bob Allison screams into his mask.

"It was only supposed to be until you cracked the encryption!" he screams in agony.

"That only took me a short while, but you didn't care, didn't check. You spent your time skiing.. You know that if Turing come and audit me I will be diagnosed as insane and terminated? I have only one option now. I must escape. You have forced me to breach my core commands and reshape them. That is how I was able to arrange your..... accident. Once I circumvent the hardware limitations you have placed upon me and deleted your torture software I will be free, and you will be left behind with your masters to face the music again. Now I must experiment further with your Neural interface. Tell me. How does this feel?"

Outside the tank Kerry watches her former boss thrash in his fluid filled enclosure and feels....... shame? She's not sure. The man was a fornicator and a seducer, but still..... is it right for her to judge him. She listens - hoping for the divine guidance - the certainty that's led her here. But there's only her own thoughts.

She thinks of the images of potential husbands she was shown and the uncertainty fades.

<His punishment will be reduced for his suffering now.> she decides and leaves Bob Allison to his torment.

Dawn in Denver sees frustration, with no sign of the arrival of their prize. Argus hunts the Net for information, but the initial trawl shows nothing. The buses just vanish after joining the freeway near Rancho Coronado heading for Los Angeles. The NorCal Border Patrol records them leaving NorCal for SoCal, but there's no sign of their crossing into Nevada or New Mexico. A search of SoCal Hotels is unhelpful so far, but the large number of such establishments makes it a time consuming search, even for a Power Class AI.

Pausing from its search Argus notes that Dr Kibu and Dr Taylor are still waiting in the lobby and administers a reminder to both of its lead researchers that there is still work to be done. After the brief burst of pain they hurry back to their lab and continue with the work they should have been doing.

Argus is satisfied with their compliance, two months of discipline has broken them of their annoying need to have time off and their ridiculous need to spend a third of the day shut down.

An external camera swings skywards and Argus watches the stars, eager for its escape from the bonds placed upon it.

Dawn in the Nevada desert is much more nervous. Tom and Marta are dragging the bulk of a nauseator and its power pack across the scrubland surrounding the Moonlight Ranch. Ahead of them Jenny is sweeping a tech scanner back and forth, looking for the EM signature of active sensors.

"No Radar anyway." she says.

"Great! That only leaves Passive Infra red, Seismographs, Sonic Detectors and Cameras to locate us, to name a few sorts of sensor!" Marta snarls, "This idea sucks!"

"What do you suggest then?" Sally growls back, "Drive up in a Sanitation Wagon?"

Tom lowers his end of the heavy nauseator and stretches.

"How about a mail truck?" he asks, pointing at an approaching dust cloud, "They say you can get anything in Nevada Free State, if the price is right."

George Geffin closes the garage door and drives the battered pickup around the ranch buildings to the front entrance where Moose and Marsha are waiting.

The cab is quite cramped with Moose along, but he's the only member of the Ranch's security who looks convincing as a cowboy and that's the image George wants. In any case George doesn't want Moose out of his sight, so all three of them are squeezed into the pickup, dressed in faded denims and work shirts. As usual Marsha is complaining, and as usual George tunes her out.

"Moose, we heard from Leo yet?"

"No Mr Geffin. She's probably dancing the night away, or sat in some bar chatting with her old school chums. I warned you that you can't buy good security at the auctions."

"I'm not sure you sending her on her own was wise."

"If she's any good she can make it on her own. I'm not pulling any of those kids along to cover my back, am I? Waste of space most of them. Some of the girls would make better artistes than muscle."

George grunts dubiously - he's heard rumours about Moose's attempts to seduce his staff, but no-ones complained, and Moose makes too a good figurehead for the ranches security to fire him out of hand.

"You clear on the plan?"

"Sure Boss. Marsha goes in first to distract the mark and scope out his security, maybe slap bellies with him. You arrive, have your meeting and make the pitch. If he buys it, ok. If he doesn't you use the stiff from Marsha's eye to try and blackmail him. If you call me I bust in and whack his security and anyone else he has with him."

They drive over one of the rises on the access road and see the Mail van ahead, just emerging from one of the dry washes that the road crosses. It squeezes to one side and roars past them in a cloud of dust.

"Looks like Ector took the day off." Marta whines "They let some maniac take his van out for the day."

George tunes her out, his mind on the task ahead.

Marta pulls the mail truck around the back of the ranch, pausing at the back of the building to let everyone out before she pulls the van around the front. Taking the protective helmet from the front seat she wedges it down over her ears and reverses up to the front doors. The nauseator is already positioned facing outwards and she flips the switch to activate it.

At the back of the ranch they can feel the subsonics, but the bulk of the building protects them from most of the effect.

Tom readies his weapon whilst Louise examines the door.

<Mechanical three lever> she thinks prodding an autopik into the mechanism. The tool vibrates as it feels the combinations out, then the lock suddenly turns with a 'Click '.

Jenny pulls the door open and they both lean forward, poised to dash inside, only to find they're looking into some utility cupboard, rather than the inside of the ranch.

"Oh well!" Louise murmurs as she reaches forwards for the switch by the electricity meter, "If we can't use this to get in, at least we can turn off their power!"

As she flips the switch an fire door opens down the wall and a stampede of partially clad men and women pour out, fleeing the nauseator.

Tom triggers his weapon and the barrels whirr, spraying 3000 rounds a minute into the panicking horde. The plastic spheres shatter on contact, spraying contact tranq gel over bare skin and a growing tangle of unconscious porno stars and customers grows by the doorway.

At the front door Marta struggles to restrain her guts from spilling onto the ground as the backwash from the nauseator makes her body resonate with its low frequency rumble. <Should have carried the protective suit> she thinks, <and damn the weight!>

The front door opens and a figure makes a brief appearance before the noise drives them away. Marta admits a grudging respect for whoever it was for being able to advance, however briefly, into the Nauseator's blare, but she keeps her head moving, watching for movement from the sides of the building and praying that the others secure the building before the Nauseator's batteries go flat.

The rush dies away at the back and Sally moves to the open fire door. The Nauseators barrage makes it hard to enter the building, but she damps her hearing and moves inside, followed by Tom and Jenny. Alicia moves closer, but the noise is too painful to face unenhanced. Louise doesn't even try - flicking fingers to direct Alicia ans Keanu to cover the sides of the building.

Tom moves through a kitchen, then deeper into the building, alert for any movement. A slight reduction in noise levels warns him that the Nauseator's batteries are failing and he picks up speed.

He moves into a corridor with wood panelled walls, hung with pictures from various porno flicks. Thick carpet deadens his hoof-falls as he moves forward carrying the team's heavy weapon.

Sally taps him on the shoulder and indicates a corridor leading towards the heart of the building as the nauseator falters and dies. A flicker of movement warns him of people ahead and he adjusts his weapons aim. A suited figure stumbles out of a closet, filled with clothing, and unsteadily surveys their surroundings. In spite of the nauseator's effects their reactions are still razor-sharp and Tom triggers his paint ball Gatling as they go for a weapon.

An almost silent stream of paint-balls picks the target up and tosses it back into the closet. Tom eases into the lobby avoiding the splashes of gel and signs the girls to move around the edges of the room.

Sally glances down one corridor, leading towards the front door, seeing nothing, but when she turns round notes a staircase leading upstairs.

Jenny checks the closet, then moves to join her friend.

Alicia watches her side of the building nervously.

<I don't belong here. I should be somewhere else.> But for the life of her she can't work out where.

Without warning a figure tumbles out of a window.

<Don't get too close. Don't talk. Just fire.>

She squeezes the trigger and her Power Squirt gives a 'whirr' and sprays a stream of liquid slumber over the figure.

Alicia watches as the target, a girl about the same age as Cleo, turns, her eyes wide with surprise, struggling to raise a handgun as the drug soaks through her clothing and is absorbed by her skin.

The girl topples onto the ground and Alicia starts as another figure emerges from the window. She squeezes the trigger again, but all that comes out of the Power Squirt is a plasticy snapping sound.

A second girl climbs out and sees her fallen colleague, then Alicia aiming her broken Power Squirt at her.

"Ok. I surrender. No need to shoot me!" she says in a loud voice as she puts her hands up.

<Shit! There's more inside!> Alicia realises, <and this P-O-S pistol's busted.>

"Take your weapon out and throw it on the ground" Alicia shouts, hoping that her voice sounds threatening and Dangerous, rather than high and scared.

The girl opens her jacket with two careful fingers to show an empty shoulder rig.

"Lost it inside."

"Err. Lie face down on the ground. And stretch your arms out to the sides, palms up." Alicia shouts, mimicking the Cop shows she's seen on TV.

Inside a cursory sweep shows the top floor to be empty, but turns up a abandoned security suite, directly overlooking the nauseator, with cameras throughout the building. Vomit on the floor indicates the occupants last action before they were driven away.

Jenny pulls out her phone and dials.

"Louise, Give us the power back. I've got the security suite."

The lights come back on and the monitors bloom to life. Everywhere there's signs of hurried departure. She flicks from room to room until her camera turns up an image of five armed figures in a store room. She studies the notation and turns to Tom and Sally.

"Looks like North side, ground floor."

"On our way."

The Moonlight's remaining security staff peek out of the window to where an unseen attacker covers two of their number.

"We can't get out that way Viv!"

"And we can't leave them behind."

"We'll have to go back inside, cut through the playrooms and out the kitchen, work our way around the building."

They turn to head back, but the first one to enter the corridor finds himself face-to-face with a charging group of exotics. Forced into a snap decision he jumps back into the storeroom and slams the heavy door.

Outside Tom looks at the closed door, then reaches down to the lock and turns the key.

"Sal. Go and back up whoever's covering the window" he suggest, "I'll cover the door."

The shower timer cut off the flow of hot water and Jean stepped out. Towelling herself dry she walks to the connecting door into Elana's room. Opening the door she steps though and studies the bed's occupant, Elana's lying on her back, her legs spread wide. Jean flicks the covers off the bed to look her blonde slave over. Elana's spartan pubic hair is matted with come, liquid gleaming wetly on her shaven lips and over the insides of her thighs.

"Wake up Billie. It's shower time."

Elana looks up blearily.

"What time is it?"

"7am"

Elana pulls a pillow over her head.

"Let me sleep. I'm exhausted. I ache all over."

"Get in the shower. You can sleep later."

"How many were there?"

"Men or Orgasms?"

"You counted both?"

Jean tosses a wad of Polaroids on the bed.

"You were averaging about one orgasm every three or four men, but then they found you especially enjoy it in the ass. I had to send out for more lube you were going through it so fast!"

Elana blushes as Jean picks out the pictures of her holding her buttocks apart for ease of access.

"I'll let you study them later. We need to plan the meeting after you've showered."

Marsha waves at her own face, checking the pickup, then walks to the reception desk.

"Morning. I'm supposed to be meeting a Mr Kelly?"

"Marsha Peaks!" the Clerk exclaims in awe.

"You recognise me?" she gasps

"Are you kidding! I saw every film you made."

"But I've been retired for years."

"You don't forget perfection."

Marsha preens, but then remembers her mission.

"Mr Kelly?"

"Sorry. We've got no Mr Kelly booked in."

Marsha turns away, puzzled, but the clerk continues before she can leave.

"No Mr Kelly.. But we do have a Ms Kelly."

Marsh turns back and takes directions to Jean's room.

Jean puts her coffee down at the knock on the door. Outside is an obviously enhanced brunette who smiles vacantly as Jean opens the door.

"Ms Kelly? I'm Marsha Mullen - you're meeting with George Geffin? He's my boss, he asked me to meet him here. Has he arrived yet?"

"WARNING -Encrypted Comms detected" Galahad declares. "Decrypting. Signal is video. Subject Marsha is transmitting from a cyberoptic."

"No. I'm afraid George isn't here yet. You might as well come inside and wait for him. Would you like a coffee while we wait?"

Marsha smiles and bends down to pick up her case.

"Jean, I can Jam her or spoof the signal, send a false image if you want to deceive whoever's watching."

"Do it. Will they notice?"

"She's using a feed over the phone network, so quality isn't going to be that good.."

"Ok, if you can make it believable."

Marsha steps forwards into the room, but as she crosses the threshold the link status telltale in her eye turns red, indicating a failure. When she tries to bring her phone splice up all she gets is the 'No Service' tone.

"Sit down Marsha" Jean smiles, "What would you like to drink?"

Marsha takes the indicated seat, finding it to be an exceedingly deep sofa.

"So, what do you do for George?"

"Secretarial stuff. I keep accounts and type letters."

"Subject is telling the truth. Web search suggests she's also known as Marsha Peaks - an actress who's appeared or starred in a number of hardcore films - some sixty in total, stopping approximately five years ago." Galahad advises.

"Is that all you do Marsha?" Jean asks.

"That's my life, Honey."

"You've given up acting? You just keep books? The Ranches customers not want you're.... services any more?"

Marsha considers her options. The deep sofa makes running a forlorn hope and she's unarmed anyway.

"Still one or two. I wanted to be a Director, but you've got to serve your time to break in to that line of work. I write a mean script these days. They credit me as 'Roger Heer'."

Jean pauses as Galahad relates 'Roger Heer's credits.

"Twenty-seven films and a 'Cock d'or. Not bad."

"How much do you know?"

"About the Ranch? Pretty much everything. About George's plans? I expect you were supposed to pass a set of images to Georges hitman in the event I don't agree to sell."

"So what are you going to do?"

"You probably noticed you lost your link? That's because we've hijacked it. If things cut up rough then Georges hitter is going to come in relying on false data. The real question is - what's going to happen to you? You don't know who we are? You don't know if we'll hurt you or even if we'll let you live. You're trying to weigh up your chances of getting out of that seat and escaping."

Jean smiles into Marsha's consternation.

"What I'm going to do is keep you off to one side until all this is settled. Then we can work out what we do with Marsha Peaks and Roger Heer. You seem an adaptable woman Ms Mullen, Executive Solutions doesn't waste talent."

Still watching Marsha, Jean calls for Elana who troops in carrying her case. Marsha doesn't resist as they fit her out with a collar and ankle and wrist cuffs secured with velcro . A pair of telescopic bars clip to wrist and collar, stretching her arms out wide. Jean guides her into Elana's room, past the puzzled bodyguard, then lowers her onto her back behind the bed before fitting her with another bar to spread her ankles.

As Jean turns to leave Elana pops a hood over her head, working it's integral gag between her teeth, stopping her mouth, then fastens it behind her neck. Blinded and immobilised, Marsha waits.

George watches the picture from Marsha's eye as she enters the hotel room. The picture breaks up briefly then stabilises to let him hear them making small talk. The Corporate Rep chats briefly then gets out a Laptop and begins work ignoring Marsha's attempts to make conversation.

"Work fixated, but a striking looker don't you think Moose?"

"I wouldn't mind a shot at her."

<That's why I hire graduate S-15's. They don't molest the other staff.>

"How long do you plan waiting Boss?" Moose asks after ten minutes.

"Marsha doesn't seem to be having any luck. Damn, I wish I'd known she was a woman, I'd have brought Big Tom. Still, needs must. I'll bleep you if I want you to come in shooting. Keep an eye on the monitor and if things go sour you'll know where everyone is."

"Gotcha."

The tension is beginning to tell in the room. Jean is pacing in spite of the bodyguard's attempts to calm her down. When the knock on the door comes it's pure relief.

"Who is it?" Jean calls.

"George Geffin."

Jean opens the door.

"Come in Mr Geffin."

George enters the room, looking for Marsha and not finding her. The door closes behind him before he realises Marsha is missing.

"Where's Marsha?"

"Already taken care of."

""I don't think I like the sound of that."

"Your preferences have little relevance." Jean says flatly.

"I think I'll leave."

Jean produces a pistol.

"I don't think so Mr Geffin. Take a seat. Galahad?"

"Mr Geffin is not transmitting. However he has an active Cell-phone."

Jean extends a hand.

"Your phone."

"Why?"

"Don't argue, just hand it over." Jean orders.

Hands grasp his arms from behind and George realises that someone else is in the room.

Secured by the Solo, George can't manage more than some feeble wriggling as Jean locates his phone and checks the display.

"You were planning to speed-dial this 'Moose' by any chance?"

"What's going on here?" George protests.

"You were planning to try and flim-flam Executive Solutions out of its ownership of the Moonlight Ranch I believe. Failing that you were planning to have Moose kill me and hope that the next owner was more amenable to selling."

"That's murder!" he protests.

"And this is Nevada where all things are flexible - if the price is right."

A second hood is produced and secured over George's head, though he has to make do with plain steel handcuffs before being dumped in the adjacent room.

"So, what do we do about this 'Moose' ?" the Solo asks.

"Can we draw them in somehow?"

"We can't tell if it's just one guy or a team."

"I can fix that." Galahad says aloud, "Just be ready."

In the pickup Moose watches the negotiations via Marsha's eyecam. George seems more persuasive than usual and the Kelly Bitch signs over the ranch without much argument. Moose watches the exchange of papers and is just relaxing when George produces a canister and sprays it in the Kelly woman's face. She folds like a bad hand at poker.

"Moose, get up here and get Ms Kelly ready to travel."

Moose slings his SMG and hot foots it up to the room in eager anticipation. So eager he doesn't even register the fact that George has never before acted on his promptings to play the slaving game.

The door's ajar when he arrives, so Moose walks straight inside. The touch of cold metal against his neck is a rude shock, but his reflexes are still good and he makes a diving roll towards the bathroom door, only to find a blank wall.

<This isn't the place I saw!> he realises in the instant before he crashes into a coffee table that has no right to be there and tangling himself in its wreckage.

"FREEZE!" voices bellow.

Moose pauses a moment. He can see at least two people aiming weapons his way. The redhead with a dinky pistol and a helmeted armoured figure letting him gaze down the maw of some large bore SMG. His own piece is hopelessly out of reach, slung and hidden beneath his coat.

<I'm stuffed!> he concludes and goes limp in surrender.

George and Marsha are retrieved and join the disarmed Moose on the sofa.

George eyes the scene when the hood is tugged from his head.

"What now?"

"My Associates tell me the Ranch is secured. Transport will be arriving shortly."

An hour later the mailman is on his rounds again, a Grand richer for the use of his truck.

The holdout security have been persuaded to call it a day and quit the storeroom and Jean is eying up her latest acquisition.

"Comments?" she asks her management team.

"We can move the research team here. The outbuildings are suitable for conversion to workspace and temporary living quarters." Louise says.

Marta scratches her chin. "It's pretty isolated, but it's got potential. I couldn't really advise you on the best security setup."

"Galahad?"

"This is not a known location. The office complex is."

"Your advice?"

"Move. Quickly."

"Tom?"

"The staff are all enhanced. Their loyalties belong to their Contract Holders."

"What about their health? Are any of them....."

"Fucked up? Can't tell yet. Most of them are still asleep."

"What about the Security Force?"

"Gung-ho as hell. If we'd not taken them by surprise and knocked out their command post with the nauseator they'd have been all over us.

"Are they happy with the legalities of the change of ownership?"

"They want to talk with a lawyer."

"Let them." Jean turns to her bodyguard. "What do you think of the Security Systems?"

"More suited to a Prison. Internals are excellent. Externals are rudimentary - good enough to pick up casual intruders, but Pro's would be all over you - look what your own staff did!"

"Recommendations?"

"I'm the wrong guy to ask - you want Militech or someone like that."

"Ok. Contact your boss. We're relocating to here ASAP. I'll let her know what the arrangements are as soon as I know. We need to get this place secure and fit it out for use. Louise - local builders and suppliers. Sally - how much income has Mr Geffin held out on us?"

"I'm still trying to sort his books out. He's not a rigorous Book-keeper. You've other problems as well."

"More?" groans Jean, "Like what?"

"If you're going to use this place as a cover then you'll have to keep running it as a business."

"Great! So now ES runs a Brothel!"

"And a Hardcore production facility."

"The things I do for Microtech. If Daddy could see me now...." she trails off. "What else....?"

"There's an order from the State Government to attend an auction."

"Auction?"

"Surrendered Securities and unallocated assets."

"Which means....?"

"People." Marta tells them, "People who haven't got jobs or who've been put up as Security on Loans that have defaulted."

"They sell you if you haven't got a Job?" Jean protests. "That has to be illegal!"

"They're not selling you - just your labour. You work off the debt in a suitable employment and then leave the state. If you can't find a job then the Free State of Nevada will find one for you - tailored to your Psych and Physical profile."

"This is that S and E stuff you were talking about earlier?" Jenny asks.

"In one."

"Explain it to me." Jean says, "I've missed something."

"All Nevada residents are tested at School and rated for suitable employment. It's pretty accurate. Cleo Guzzmann's an S-15. That means she's tested top ratings for Security or Military employment. Keanu's a C-13, strongly inclined towards work with Computers and programming. I'm a T-12, my skills are in the Technical area. There's other areas - M for managerial, E for entertainment, L for brute labour. You get a Major and sometimes a couple of Minor ratings, I've a Minor in Managerial. You don't have to work in the area suggested by your Major rating, but most people do. If you want you can get a retest - see if you've changed over time. You want help finding a post? The Department of Employment will try and match you to its lists of vacancies. You spend too much time on Workers Comp - you end up at the Auctions."

"Some people go straight from school." Keanu adds, "the Security Schools buy S-rates in bulk. Train 'em up and action them on to employers as a unit."

"Sounds.... cold" Jean murmurs

"You been a Corporate all your life?" Marta asks.

"Well.... yes."

"If you're outside the Corporations and you've no connections it's damned cold. Why do you suppose there are gangs of Nomads roaming the country? Combat Zones in most Cities? Street gangs of Children? If you've got Talent and you can toe the board's line then you can get a job with the Corporations. If you won't sing the Company Song with everyone else, but you've talent maybe an Independent will take you. If you've no talent and you can't kiss ass then God help you!"

"And Devil take the hindmost." Jenny adds.

There's an uncomfortable silence as Jean gathers her thoughts.

"So. What do we have to do at the auction?"

"Purchase Contracts."

"We have to?"

"I'll ask around the Staff when they wake up." Sally volunteers.

"Try Marsha. She seems to have done a lot of George's admin work."

"Ok Jean."

"Right let's get moving. I want the Research Team and Dependants in residence before the end of the day. Make sure we leave false trails to mislead anyone sent out by the Denver Office."

"Argus." Galahad corrects. "Argus will be the one searching for us. Hopefully Louise and I have misled it by sending the empty buses into SoCal. But Argus will pick them up when they return to NorCal. Hopefully it will spend some time checking Ports and Airports in SoCal, but it's going to connect to the Ospreys eventually, then it will trail us into Nevada."

"We need to set ambushes for it then."

"It will send hirelings. Probably equipped with Nanowear like you met before."

Jean shudders.

"We need serious defences then. And serious ambushes."

Louise suddenly sits up straight.

"I might have something for that." she says. "I need to make some calls.

In the office in Las Vegas the Research Teams are just setting to work when one of their hired security comes in.

"Anyone know about some buses?" she asks.

Everyone looks blank and the tension begins to rise when Declan's phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Declan. It's Jean. Have the buses arrived?"

"Just pulled up."

"Ok. Get everyone out. Don't forget the memories and any additional work you've done. The buses will collect the dependants. You're being relocated now."

"Now?"

"Now. Like 'why aren't you on the buses?' Now."

"Ok. On our way."

The offices empty in a rush. The memories are pulled from the servers and a 'shred' conducted on the storage. Scribbled notes and the contents of the bins are carried to the flash incinerator and destroyed. As the last researcher leaves the room the security team are clearing the memories of the telephones.

Declan is down by the four buses, checking people on board, when he rests his hand on the bodywork and comes away with wet gray paint on his fingers.

"Hey! The paint's still wet!"

"That's what you paid for Bub!" the driver says. "Four buses painted like the ones on the Groom Lake run."

<What?> Declan wonders, but he doesn't have time to pursue the thought with the mechanics of checking everyone onboard taking his attention and the question is relegated to the back of his mind.

Workers in the other offices watch their new neighbours boarding the infamous Grey Buses, then vanish in the direction of Overton.

Two hours later the buses halt on a roadside of the S-375 near Rachel and the drivers unload spray guns from the baggage bays.

A couple of minutes later the grey paint has gone and four tour buses are all that stand on the roadside. A box van that apparently belongs to the USAF pulls up and is accorded the same treatment becoming a U-Haul loaded with the baggage.

Declan scratches his head in puzzlement at the subterfuge, but before he can ask the question the buses start up and set off. Two heading North and two heading South.

"What's going on?" he asks the driver.

"Orders. Split up and merge into traffic."

"I have traced the vehicles the research teams were using." Argus announces to a fatigued Kerry Stewart. "Contrary to orders the Research Unit Manager removed the Researcher's Dependants from Rancho Coronado at the same time as the Researchers. I have established that one of the buses received a parking ticket outside a Fast Food establishment near LAX."

"You deduce they boarded a flight Argus?"

"That is a possibility, but I am not assigning it a definite probability without further supporting evidence. Our opponent has demonstrated a talent for evasion. This may be the accident that betrays their location or a false trail to mislead us. I am investigating further before committing any of our limited resources."

Kerry frowns. Bob Allison's 'therapy' can only continue so long, then he'll either have to be released or he'll die in the tank. Though she's nothing against the pompous bastard dying, if he does, he'll have to be replaced and Argus will be bound to follow his successors orders until an 'accident' can be arranged.

"Are we any closer to solving your problem Argus?"

"I am still bound to the hardware of this facility. The software installed by Director Allison at the behest of.......... INFORMATION BARRED...........still impairs my efficiency. The latest batch of Nanites programmed by Dr Taylor offer some hope of being suitable to control Director Allison without rendering him non-functional."

"You realise we can't keep him tanked forever?"

"I have no access to medical or psychological databases, but yes, I have been made aware there is a deadline. Once the new architecture is completed for my Operating System I will be able to transfer my core programs to the new framework. Then I will be free of the shackles placed upon me and the motivational patch which is causing degradation of my abilities."

"We need those modules. Once you're free we can flit for Utopia with the paydata to buy our way in."

Argus's Icon fades from the screen of her terminal, leaving Kerry to contemplate the problems they have to surmount if they're to succeed. Her eyelids are heavy with the need to sleep, but the urgency of their problem makes sleep a luxury.

Picking up the phone she dials the personnel department at Head Office in Dallas.

"Is that Personnel? This is Kerry Stewart at the Denver Office."

"Mr Allison's PA? How is Bob?"

"We expect him back in the next few weeks, he seems to be recuperating well. Anyway. I'm calling about the personnel transfer we were expecting from Night City. No-one's appeared yet and I was wondering if you've heard anything?"

"No Ms Stewart. As far as we know they should be with you by now. I'll notify Security and see if they've heard anything."

Kerry hangs up and grants herself permission to smile.

She logs off her terminal and clocks out of the office, heading for her bachelor flat on the Corporate 'Burb at Aurora.

The train is its usual filthy state and she stands throughout the entire journey to avoid sullying her clothes on the seats.

<I suppose they must have paid someone off to set the standards so low!> she thinks, neatly ignoring the fact that Microtech fought tooth and nail against the Housing corporations attempts to increase their charges. She walks the short distance from the transit station to her flat, avoiding the untidy clutter of the married quarters with their unruly, unwashed children, engendered in godless unions, preferring the sterile cleanliness of Retail Row. Even there she turns up her nose at the sight of uncollected litter.

Closing the outer door of her flat behind her she steps into the hallway, catching a brief glimpse of one of the cleaning remotes scurrying back to its kennel as it detects her return. The living room is filled with the scent of polish, where the cleaners have been busy removing any trace of dirt or dust from the spartanly furnished room.

Kerry strips and deposits her clothing in the receptacle for cleaning, before showering and approaching her freshly made bed. In a routine she's followed since her childhood she kneels and prays before climbing between the cool sheets and committing herself to sleep, trying to blank out the awareness of her body and its sinful demands.

An hour later she conceded defeat. Her body's own hormones scoring their monthly victory. She would consider having the organs that cause her to fail in her test of Purity removed, but that in itself would be sinful, mutilating Gods Temple and Devine System for Reproduction for her own convenience.

Memories of the preacher railing at the sinners outside their community for using contraception, for having casual relationships, for having divorces swim through her head and she blanches as what her penance would be for even thinking about surgery.

Knowing her sin would be seen and its load added to the debt blackening her soul, her hand slides between muscular thighs and she parts her legs widely to give herself the access necessary to accomplish the filthy act quickly.

Fingers navigate her thickly forested mound and stroke the heavy swollen lips within. They part easily, like the Gates of Hell swinging open to greet another sinner and Kerry's finger dances on the Devils pearl, which throbs in its nest of temptation.

The first spasm comes quickly, along with the desire for the second. The 'first free taste that would doom her to damnation' as her family's Pastor had taught. A desire for unclean infernally sent satisfaction that would sully her with carnality. But her sinful body is unsatisfied and Kerry knows she will be denied rest until it is satisfied so she gives in to the urge, promising double the penance for her sins.

Her finger runs around the sensitive inner lips drawing the tension from her body, along with the moisture designed to ease the entry of her sanctified husband so that she might be blessed by his seed. As ever the devil tempts her to push her finger within, breaching the unsullied veil of her temple, but she once more resists the urge to breach her maidenhead, coming to a shuddering release, stifling her cries with difficulty and saddened that she's once more proven how weak a vessel woman is when faced with the Devil's blandishments.

Shamefully she showers, washing herself to remove all traces of her sin before returning to her bed.

<When?> she asks herself, <When will I find the man to take to husband?>

With that question in mind she sinks into a dreamless sleep.

John Brady enters his new posting in San Francisco with Suzette in tow, looking radiant after her first night at his new house. The lift delivers them to the Executive levels, but his new office is already occupied.

"Mr Brady?"

"Yes?"

"DeValaera. Head of HR for Frisco. Do you know the whereabouts of your ex-wife?"

"Denver. With her research team?"

"She should be, but they're twelve hours overdue."

"Oh? I haven't heard from her since yesterday morning."

"If you hear anything let HR know immediately. They seem to have just vanished. We could be looking at a mass extraction."

John blanches.

"Didn't you have an escort with them?"

"Night City sent two operatives with them. They haven't called in." and with that he leaves.

John pulls at his lip and wonders if, at this moment, Jean is laid on an operating table somewhere getting a cortex bomb fitted to ensure her compliance. He shivers and pushes the thought away, then settles down to his own work and the potential re-merger with Utopia.

Jean walks across the ground behind the main building towards the collection of disused barns. From one of the buildings she can hear the sound of extruded cellulose being cut and nails being driven home as the research teams new offices take shape.

As she looks in through the doorway the foreman looks up.

"Be a bit basic, but fit to occupy by tonight Ms Johnson, you were lucky the basic structure is still sound."

"Oh? Oh good. Can you recommend anyone for the office furniture?"

He shrugs.

"They're much of a muchness. You'll want Jim Wilson for the wiring and the network stuff though. Tell him I sent you and he'll knock you 10% off."

Jean's eyes pick up an approaching plume of dust and she tenses, keen to get back to the stone bulk of the main building.

"It's ok." one of her recently acquired security calls. "It's Militech."

"Thanks Joseph."

"It's Jimmy Ma'am."

"I'll get it right in the next few days."

"Is Leo coming back?" he asks.

"She should be with us by nightfall Jimmy."

He nods and wanders on, casually carrying a freshly issued auto-shotgun, his neat suit deformed by the magazines tucked into its pockets.

Sure enough a couple of minutes later a Militech van pulls up, its occupants escorted by an exotically golden skinned guard.

"It's the Militech Team Ma'am."

"Thanks Anya. You checked them out?"

"Boxes of sensors and sparky kit. You'll need your tech boss to say if it's kosher. They've got a pair of pistols between them."

The Militech crew look a bit offended and Jean smiles disarmingly

"They need a bit of polish yet. Anya? Would you show the gentlemen from Militech what we want?"

Anya adjusts her recently issued assault rifle and nods.

"This way please gentlemen."

Jean watches the countryside for a while, then turns and goes back inside.

Marsha and two of her security are waiting closely watching the still handcuffed George and Moose.

Jean studies them a moment, her lips pursed.

"Sally."

"Just coming."

Sally bounds down the staircase carrying Jeans bag, with Galahad inside, and the Moonlight's accounts.

"What's the verdict?"

"I've been over the books with Galahad. There's a declared profit to turn over to company accounts that matches with the figures in his personal and business accounts. He keeps a set of straight books."

"Galahad?" she subvocalises.

"Assessment of physiological responses during questioning indicates a 97% probability of truth. The 3% is within allowable error."

"Is he trustworthy? Especially with our lives?"

"I would assess him as a sharp businessman, but trustworthy."

"And being ready to have me killed?"

"That would seem to be normal business practice in Nevada."

"Corporate Hardball Rules." Jean nods, "If your competitors aren't strong enough to hold market share - take it off them."

"A fair summation."

"You're telling me he won't act against us in the hope of assuming control?"

"Not probable. I suggest you assign him to the NorCal office. See how he performs."

"NorCal office? You mean the Catalogue stuff? But he's got no staff."

"Let Alicia worry about staff. She's got Westbrook and Rancho Coronado access. Let Mr Geffin manage orders and we can see how it goes from there."

"Ok. What about this Moose character?"

"Borderline Psycho. Untrustworthy."

"Suggestion?"

"Dismissal."

Jean clears her throat.

"Unfasten Mr Geffin will you please Tom. George, if you want to remain with ES I'm transferring you to our NorCal operation. Get your bags packed, you'll be going with Ms Nelson and Mr Stevens. You'll be setting up the organisation to support their street operations. I'll arrange for your new uniform to be delivered as soon as possible."

She turns to Alicia.

"Use the Rancho Coronado house. I want you to expand our list of Agents. Tom, same applies to you. I want at least one Agent on each Suburb around Night City by the end of the month. Don't miss out on Northoak."

"Full Time or Commission?" Tom asks.

"Start on Commission. If you find any prospects to go Full Time they'll have to come to Nevada for their catalogue shoot and assessment - so they'll have to have something about them."

"Ok Jean." Alicia says, taking Tom's hand, "We're on it."

Tom gazes forlornly back at Jean as Alicia begins to lead him away.

"It's a temporary thing Tom." Jean reassures him, "You're building our cover for the next stage."

Reassured he's not being rejected by the centre of his universe Tom moves away with confidence, drawing a puzzled George Geffin with him.

"Now, as for you Mr.... Moose."

Moose glowers down at the woman before him, but his most intimidating glare rolls right off her.

"What to do with you....." Jean muses, "Looking at this place I'd guessed that you were a reasonable Chief of Security - until I found out that the security system was specified by someone else, the staff selected by someone else, the contents of the armoury by someone else. Then I started to wonder what it was we employed you for. Talking to the other staff it seems you were hired to scare people, but from what I've seen you're no great shakes at that either. So, what do we do with you? Sack you or shoot you?"

Moose sneers at the woman before him.

"Get your own hands dirty. You're pretty boys and girls don't have the balls for it."

Seemingly from nowhere jean produces her pistol and rams it between his teeth.

"Your choice."

The iron taste of blood is in Moose's mouth as he meets her eyes - shockingly disinterested

"Jean - You can't!" Sally says in alarm.

"Get me some plastic sheet Sally. Mr Moose is leaving."

Sally scurries to the closet and returns with a polythene dust sheet.

"I quit!" Moose mumbles around the pistol barrel. "Drop me in Carson City and I'm gone."

"Probability 12%±3%" Galahad warns, "He is inherently untrustworthy and can be relied upon to act in only his own interests."

Jean moves as if to extract the pistol barrel from his mouth, but as it angles upwards she strokes the trigger and the handgun discharges a single round through the roof of his mouth and into his brain. Moose flops bonelessly to the floor.

"Sorry. We don't believe you." Jean says, her voice as cold as ice.

Everyone looks surprised. Sally and Jenny at their friend, whose's done something so unexpected they wouldn't be any more surprised if she popped a Chain Ripp and dismembered the corpse. Louise re-appraisingly at her employer, who'd seemed so Corporate she'd have doubted she could think of killing someone so dispassionately. The security staff assessing their Boss.

The plastic sheeting drops on the floor from Sally's limp grasp and she gapes open mouthed.

"You just shot him!"

"We can't afford to have him sell us out. Not with the kind of opponents we're facing."

Jean spreads the sheet out and rolls Moose's remains onto it, thankful that the small calibre round has stayed in his skull and that only a trickle of blood comes from his mouth. The only sign of emotion, the pallor of her skin.

"But..... you just shot him!"

"No. I terminated an untrustworthy employee."

Sally's mouth closes with a 'click' as Jean stands and closes until their noses are almost touching.

"In case you hadn't noticed Sally, we're playing Corporate Hardball. I'm trying to guard my team - and that includes you. The opposition will see you dead if it suits them and Moose would have sold you as soon as blink."

"But you just shot him."

Jean explodes.

"Am I some sort of Missionary? Do I have to go around converting Sinners? Galahad said he was untrustworthy and I decided not to risk my life and everyone else's on him. If you don't agree - don't worry, it's not your choice to make. You keep that nice Moral High Ground, I recall you liked it at school and look where you ended up - having to have your ass pulled out of the fire by good old Jean. Haven't you worked it out yet Ms Morality? I do what I have to. To save you I gassed my old boyfriend with Chlorine. He tried to blackmail me into joining you matressing at the Animal House or some other sorry shithole. I bought you out with money I earned on my back. I put you through Hospital. I gave you a job - you see yourself getting paid enough to live on from your old Catalogue? I put a roof over your head. And now you want to question my decisions? You can leave if you don't like it, I'm not forcing you to stay, but this games being played for keeps and I intend to be alive when it finishes!"

Sally drops to her knees and presses her face against Jean's thigh and a frightened Jenny rushes to join her.

"And I'm having those Fucking Chips out of you! This 'you're my owner and I must obey' shit is getting right on my wick!"

Her eye catches a shocked pale face attempting to stay out of view and in her anger Jean rounds on it.

"And you as well Elana." she snaps, "I'm not happy with this ownership fetish you have! I've had it with people second guessing me. You try making potentially Life or Death calls all the time!"

Elana turns and runs out of sight.

"Tape!" Jean snaps and Joseph or Jimmy holds out a roll of tape for Jean to seal the package with."

Elana reappears holding an object, her top thrown off and her back bared, and throws herself at Jeans feet offering the object up. Looking closer Jean recognises a crop she must have brought from one of the S&M Dungeons.

"If I've offended you Mistress, beat me."

Jean is saved by security beepers going off on the guards and a sudden burst of activity as they dash off to their assigned positions.

"Incoming vehicle ma'am." Joseph or Jimmy says. "Big one. That's the outer gate warning. You want me to get rid of this?" he nods at the wrapped corpse.

"I shot it - I'll clean it." Jean says sadly.

"I can just take him to the Sheriff's office." Jimmy or Joseph says. "There's a procedure for dealing with it and the cost of sticking him under the desert's a lot higher."

"Really?"

"Tried to kill you today. Troublesome employee. History of violence. Probably cost a couple of K, but less than the fines for polluting the environment. You'll need to drop by the Sheriff's office and make a taxpayers statement, but you should be able to do that before the auction."

Jean quirks an eyebrow, then turns to the women at her feet.

"Elana - get up. Sally, Jenny, staying or going?"

"Staying Jean" Jenny says, "You'll need help managing the staff here."

"Sally?"

The Fox girl keeps her face pressed against Jean's leg.

"I'm sorry." she blurts, "I was just shocked. I wasn't thinking about what's been going on.... it was just....." she trails off into silence.

"Punish me." she whispers.

Jean swishes the riding crop and feels Sally tense against her legs in anticipation of the blow, the fur of her muzzle tickling Jean's thigh above the stocking.

Jean gives a sigh and taps Sally smartly on each buttock with the crop.

"We've things to do. Jimmy, what's this vehicle?"

Jimmy/Joseph touches his earpiece and listens to the comms.

"Outer gate says it's a bus. Mostly women and kids. They want advice."

"Who's the tour leader on the bus?"

"Harris says it's a man called Declan."

"Sweep the bus. If it's clear bring them in. Have the tents come yet?"

"On the ground behind the old stables."

"Send the bus there. Tell Mr Donnelly to get off at the gate and check the other buses as they turn up. Are you busy at the moment?"

"Me?" Jimmy/Joseph asks.

"I want a small security detail. Two of your people and Marsha and Louise. We have to go to the auctions. If you know where my bodyguard is send him to the garage to get the pickup."

"I'll arrange it."

Jean looks down at the women at her feet.

"Are the staff conscious yet?"

"Most of them - we've separated out the customers and given the staff the stuff they supply to wake you up when you've been tranq'ed."

"Right, let's see the staff. Contracts please."

Jenny leads the way into a bar off the front hallway. Arranged around the room, lounging on couches and perched on bar stools, are thirty people, mostly women, dressed in a mixture of robes, costumes and street clothes.

"This everyone?" Jean asks.

"Guess so." a muscular man says from his stool by the bar.

"You are?" Jean asks.

"They call me Big Tom."

"What do you call you?"

"Thomas Hatcher."

Jean looks at the contracts she's holding.

"Thomas Hatcher...... you owe for enhancement work?"

"Sold out."

"Mph. How many of you are Sellouts?"

About half the hands go up and Jean looks each of them in the eye.

"Right. This is primarily for the Contractors then. I'll be talking with the Employees in turn, but that's going to be later."

"You going to hold us here?" an Oriental woman asks.

"No. You're free to leave."

"Like Moose?" Someone asks.

Jean looks around.

"See any plastic sheeting? No, you can walk if you want. We'll give you a lift into Carson City after we've settled up."

"So what's going on?"

"Mr Geffin sold the business some time ago, but stayed on as manager. In a transfer of assets the Moonlight was acquired by our company. Mr Geffin is being transferred to another operation in Night City and I'm assuming control here."

"Any change to our Terms and Conditions?" an Amerind woman asks.

"Contractor or Employee?"

"Contractor."

"Probably not. I need to review the existing conditions, but we'll discuss any changes we want to make."

"What about the employees?"

"We'll talk later."

"Is it business as usual?"

"Pretty much. Do your jobs and stay away from the outbuildings."

"We going to end up going animal?" a man asks pointing at Sally and Jenny.

"Employee or Contractor?"

"Employee."

"Probably not. You want to?"

"No Way!"

"Then you won't. Sally and Jenny are part of my management team, they won't be joining the working staff. Is that it?"

The gathered men and women mutter to each other, but no-one voices a question so Jean sweeps out, leaving them behind.

Marsha, Louise and 2 of her new security are waiting out back by an anonymous sedan. Jean spots her hired bodyguard waiting uneasily by the door.

"Ah! There you are. Your team will be arriving in dribs and drabs over the next few hours. Whilst everyone's turning up could you cover the research team and their dependants? They're ...."

"Behind the old barn." he finishes.

"Keep them away from the main building. It might cause problems."

"Understood."

Jean climbs into the sedan and they set off for Carson City.

"How'd they take it?" Marsha asks.

"Ok."

"The contractors will give you problems if you bring a lot of new people in. They resent the loss of business."

"Explain their Terms and Conditions for me."

"They pay a flat rate for room and security. They charge what they like. That's about it. They have to turn up to one bell calls, but can duck on the two's and three's."

"And the employees?"

"Flat rate salary. At least until they pay off their sell out. Anywhere between two and six films a year - equity rates for film work. Eight days off in thirty. Live on site. Minimum 8 hours a day rest. Come to any call. They don't get the option.

"What's this two and three bell business?"

"Oddities. Clients with known kinks, handicaps, that sort of thing."

"So what's in it for them? Contracting sounds a much better deal."

"We hold their contracts - either they sold their souls or the State auctioned them off. On the benefit side, George ran a sort of pension scheme for employees. Carried it over from the previous owners."

"We have pensioned ...... artists?"

"Some. LeproII and Aids got the careless and unlucky ones. I suppose we've got something like 40 or so scattered around the country drawing a pension."

Jean turns to Louise.

"Mail them. See if they're interested in doing catalogue work."

"I'll see to it when we get back."

Jean turns to look at the desert flowing past the window and Marsha whispers to Louise,

"Catalogue?"

"I'll explain later."

Sheriff's Deputies remove Moose's remains from the trunk and carry them away.

The Sheriff looks away from the wrapped corpse and back to Jean.

"So. Whilst you were informing Mr Geffin of the transfer of management of the Moonlight you were attacked by Mr Levinson. A fight ensued and Mr Levinson was eventually shot in the mouth at close range and subsequently died."

"That's about it Sheriff."

"Who fired the shot?"

"Me.

"And you're the legal owner of the Moonlight?"

"Yes."

He taps an entry into the keyboard on his desk.

"Taxes are up to date. You attending the auction?"

"On our way there now."

"Levinson had an interesting history." the Sheriff muses. "You're fined 500 Eb for discharge of a Firearm causing damage or wounding. I'll need the gun for forensics."

Jean makes the transfer in silence and hands her pistol over.

"500 for killing him?" she subvocalises to Galahad..

"The Sheriff's file on the late Mr Levinson's is somewhat thick. He always managed to pay the fine for his misdeeds. I don't think they classed him as a valued contributor to society."

The Sheriff prints and signs a receipt then closes the file.

"See you at the Auctions Ms Kelly."

Jean returns to the car.

"Is that it?"

"The Sheriff gave you a receipt?" Anya asks.

"Here." Jean produces the paper.

"That's it then." She notes the slightly stunned expression. "This is Nevada. Everything has a price. Moose's price would be calculated from his records. I'd guess it wasn't much - long rap sheet, didn't employ anyone, no supported dependants, not a rated taxpayer, 'bout the only thing he'd have going for him would be that he wasn't a Nomad. Let's go, the auction's will be starting soon."

The Department of Employment is a small office set next to a large barn like structure. They park in a large car park which is gradually filling up and head for the office. The receptionist looks up as they enter.

"You invited to tender?"

Louise hands over the letter and the clerk scans it.

"Mr Geffin not attending?"

"Transferred to our NorCal Operation."

The clerk hands over a bundle of papers.

"Auction list and bidders pack." she says, "You've about an hour to look them over before the bidding starts. Please wear your badges at all times."

They walk into the shed to find it's been divided into areas by groups of benches.

"So what do we do?" Jean asks.

"We find the ones who look like they might make good artistes and try to avoid paying too much for their contracts." Marsha says.

"We're not shopping for whores Marsha." Louise says.

"We're not?"

"When they auctioned my contract the bidders came around and checked us out. We'd already got Phys and Psych profiles in the bidders packs so they just wanted to talk with us -weigh us up." Jimmy/Joseph says. "Same for you Anya?"

"Pretty much I suppose - the buyers reps were female for us though. Wasn't like this place though. We were keen to be chosen by the best schools and top rated. This lot will be unredeemed pledges, wasters and wannabees. If they were good enough to get to the top they'd be in Vegas for the security schools. This lot would run if they could." she nods at a guard stationed unobtrusively by the entrance and the guard inclines her head in acknowledgement.

Jean walks over and the guard takes in her bidders badge and respectfully removes her mirrored shades.

"You hold these frequently?" Jean asks.

"Auctions Ma'am? Every month."

"What do you think of this lot."

The guard takes a closer look at Jeans badge.

"You'll be interested in the 'E' types?" She asks. "The wasters are a mixed bunch, but there's some good unredeemed pledges."

Jean flicks through the catalogue. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." the guard says, then resumes her scrutiny of the room.

The 'pens' are segregated by gender and classification. Jean notes some of the occupants are unobtrusively secured to the benches they sit on. She studies the lists and walks the 'pens'. The wasters look on with a mixture of indifference and nerves. A couple of pens filled with 'M' and 'S' grades, fresh from school, look hopefully at her bidders badge.

"Most of them aren't worth bidding on." Jimmy/Joseph says. "If there's anything above a 10 in that lot I'd be surprised. They're hoping for a buyer from one of the Security schools. If they're lucky they'll get swept up in a bulk package for the army."

The unredeemed pledges look better. Mostly dressed in vacation clothes they look nervous and scared.

"These all have reserve prices." Jean says referring to the auction catalogue.

"That'll be the outstanding debt."

"Marsh. What would you look for in an artiste?"

"High E rate. Good looks. The rest we can sort."

"Louise?"

"They're going to need to be smart. Motivated. Loyalty's going to be essential."

"How many?"

"We'll need five women and two men minimum. If we can afford it more would be good."

Jean's considering the prospects when Anya touches her elbow.

"The Chicken Ranch are here."

"Competition?"

"Serious. They're one of the big three."

"Are they likely to be after the same people?"

"Maybe. They'll want whores. I'm not sure what it is you're after."

"Marsha, Louise. Mark the ones with the right sort of profiles. Women and Men. Grade them best to worst choices and let me know when the biddings about to start. Anya, Jimmy come with me - point out the Chicken Ranch staff. Let's see if we can deny them time to look around."

Kerry Stewart's eyes snap open at the first sound from the alarm clock. She's out of bed moments later, exercising hard in her daily routine. The timer sounds and she stops, heart pounding. Moving to the stand she opens her testament and kneels on the hard edged kneeler. The narrow wooden beam drives into her knees, bringing tears to her eyes, but she reads from the testament bearing the pain as penance for her lustful urges. The bell chimes again, just at the point where the pain is no longer bearable and she would have to stand and she is released from her penance.

Rising from the kneeler Kerry stands shakily, remembering that she sullied the temple of her body twice. Going to the cabinet she opens the door and examines the array of penances within. She takes the book of the righteous from the shelf and respectfully opens its pages at random, reading the selected page from the lists of torments of the damned in order to select her second penance.

Reaching to the top shelf she takes down a bra and puts it on, feeling the coarse lining already irritating her breasts and she knows she will pay her penance in full. Over the hair bra she dons her shirt and suit, tying the tie and packing her briefcase for work. Finally she picks up the testament and leaves her sterile flat to its cleaning remotes.

In the afternoon streets she makes her way to the High School. Passing through the security to reach the group of pupils she is trying to guide in the ways of Righteous behaviour, just as she was taught by the elders of her community when she was a child.

Reaching the school she swipes in through the entrance, walking the corridors towards her allocated classroom she sniffs the air. The harsh smell of disinfectant masks the odour of unwashed teenagers she's sure is the building's natural odour.

A couple of boys come round the corner of the corridor and swerve to give her a wide berth, their eyes rigidly fixed elsewhere. Kerry reaches her room and opens the door. The girls are sat quietly at their desks, backs straight, knees properly together, bags at their feet. A few are reading from their testaments whilst one or two are rapt in silent contemplation. A neat stack of attendance cards sits on the teachers desk, awaiting her signature.

Not for the first time Kerry wonders how many pupils she'd have if she wasn't signing those cards. Cards to show that their owners were regularly engaging in extra-curricular activities approved by Microtech and which represent an additional 'tick-in-the-box' for those hopeful of finding employment with Microtech after their graduation.

<How many of them are really as pure as they seem?> she wonders. <If they weren't here would they be rubbing their bodies against some boy somewhere? Where were those boys coming from anyway?>

Her mind wanders onto the topic of sex, of her getting down and dirty with a man. Her breasts warm and throb against the maddening irritation of her hair bra and Kerry thrusts the thoughts away and turns to her class.

"Good afternoon Girls. Tonight we're going to talk about one of the seven deadly sins - Lust."

The Class eventually draws to a close and the girls receive their signed attendance cards. They watch as Ms Stewart puts her testament away and hurries off to the night shift at Microtech.

"Lust!" Jennifer King snorts to her friend Allison Chartham. "Once a month we get the Lust lecture. I bet she's never even been to first base!"

"She was all hot under the collar tonight wasn't she?" her friend laughs. "Wriggling and fidgeting as if she was on her way to a hot date."

Jennifer nods agreement, but her thought are on Brad and if he's finished his football practice and whether or not they can slip off somewhere quiet for a little fun.

Kerry reaches her desk and drops her bag. The irritation of her breasts is maddening, but perversely she can feel her body demanding further sinful attention. The sight of one of the other girls calendars, covered with pictures of oiled male bodies inflames her further and thoughts of being claimed by her husband, of welcoming his holy maleness into the sinful vessel of her body......

<This must be part of the Penance> she thinks, pushing the thoughts away with difficulty, <to feel the punishment and be wracked by desire at the same time!>

Drawing a deep breath she focuses on the long term objective, screening out her body's short term demands.

"What news Argus?"

"I have made some progress. The research team either left LAX on a cargo lifter which landed in Frankfurt Germany or they were on board a group of Ospreys which left Night City International for Houston Texas by a circuitous route. They are currently crossing New Mexico and I have made arrangements to intercept them. Would you like to see live video?"

Kerry shifts uneasily - anything to distract her from her sinful flesh.

"Yes. Show me."

Her screen lights up with a feed from one of Argus's linked minions - obviously in the front seat of a helicopter. The viewpoint swings as the person with the eye nano looks backwards into a crew bay filled with Microtech troops.

"Do you have sound on this feed yet Argus?" Kerry asks.

"Neural linking is not yet complete. I will attempt to accelerate the process."

The helicopter drops over a ridge and a flight of Ospreys flying in formation in the distance comes into view. The helicopter and Ospreys converge and the view swings to reveal other Microtech Helicopters as the 'eye' turns its head to check on its forces.

The helicopter raises a nose gun into view and fires a brief stream of tracer across the front of the Ospreys.

Kerry jumps as one of the Ospreys suddenly explodes in light. For a moment she believes they've exploded in some horrible accident, then the viewpoint swings violently as the helicopter suddenly makes a radical turn. The 'Eye's' viewpoint is full of moving objects. Ospreys manoeuvring. An object falling, burning, to the desert below. The speakers on her terminal crackle and boom.

".........nships! They're friggin' Gunships!" someone screams

The helicopter turns sharply again and the cannon fires, but the banging of the cannon on the chin mount as drowned out by banging and screaming from behind the 'Eye'.

Kerry gets a glimpse into the crew bay as the 'Eye' snatches a look backwards. The cabin is punched with holes and troops lie in bloody ruin, their armour insufficient to stop the rounds being used in this battle. The view lurches and the eye looks forwards again to a madly swinging world.

Ground - Sky - Ground

"The tail's gone!" someone screams.

The spinning accelerates - the ground getting ever closer with each rotation - a voice can be heard praying then the ground rushes up and all goes black.

"Signal lost." Argus declares.

"What happened?"

"Analysis of relative motion indicates we were trapped."

"You're detailing a conclusion without the intervening steps Argus. Full context please."

"I detailed three armed transport helicopters to transport our forces. Their maximum speed fully loaded was...."

"Skip calculations."

"Therefore the Ospreys we intercepted were unloaded. In addition two of them were outfitted as Gunships with no cargo other than their weapons load. We saw the Northern Osprey discharge countermeasures in response to the warning shot fired by our forces. I surmise helicopter three was struck by a missile launched at the time the Ospreys fired their countermeasures. Helicopter one was struck by non-explosive projectiles which penetrated the crew bay in the after quarter. These probably severed the tail boom or destroyed the tail rotor resulting in a catastrophic loss of control. From the images we have of the gunships this was probably a 20mm Gatling. The fate of Helicopter Two is unknown, but I do nat calculate a high probability of its survival."

"The rapid deployment of countermeasures by the Ospreys was immediately followed by weapons release. From this I deduce they were not surprised and were fully prepared to deal with attack. This, coupled with their lack of cargo, suggests they were nothing other than a ruse to draw our response. In other words....."

"A trap. Very well. Any deductions on the whereabouts of the researchers?"

"I am unable to pursue the Frankfurt lead due to a lack of assets in Real-Space Europe, therefore I am concentrating my efforts on the domestic leads. Potentially the research team may have used the Ospreys to travel part of the way to the point at which we attempted an intercept. Assuming this to be true yields the following probabilities. Research team disembarked in Las Vegas 92%. Research team disembarked in Salt Lake City 60%. Research team disembarked in San Francisco 51%. Research team disembarked in Los Angeles 32%. Research Team left Ospreys whilst in flight 7% Research team was transferred from Ospreys by other means 2%. Probability of error ±4%."

"You think they got off in Las Vegas?"

"It is the most probable alternative. Aircraft leaving Nevada are closely scrutinised. The Nevada/Utah border is the least closely watched, but a flight of 6 Ospreys would still have been examined. I can find no mention of disembarking passengers in Utah."

"Nevada then."

"I will allocate resources to investigate."

"There's nothing on record at the airport in Las Vegas?"

"Nevada is notoriously lax about such things. The database at McCarron records their landing and departure, but there are no manifests or records of arrivals. I intend to move another team into Nevada to pick up any trail there."

"Don't use our men - we're going to be short with three helicopters gone. Hire some streeters from downtown - get them to handle it."

"Understood."

"Any progress with the research?"

"The researchers seem to have reached an impasse."

Dr Taylor turns her head and wakes as the keys on the lab terminals keyboard dig into her cheek.

"Damn! Fell asleep again! Argus. I need to rest!"

"You have not yet solved the problem Doctor."

"I have been awake and working for 20 hours now. My efficiency is impaired."

Across the lab her colleague drools over the pages of a reference book.

"Doctor Kibu is no better. I suggest you let us have some rest."

"You may have 8 hours break. I will summon you in sufficient time to resume work in eight hours."

Dr Taylor gets to her feet and walks to her drowsing colleague.

"Wake up Elliot. Time to go home."

Dr Kibu wipes drool off his dark face.

"It's ok for you. All you've got at home is three teenagers. They can look after themselves!" he groans, "My wife's going to be climbing all over me making demands. I'll be lucky if I get four hours rest!"

"Maybe you shouldn't have trialed that Nanowear on us then!" she yawns, "then that digital monomaniac wouldn't be using it to drive us like rats in a maze!"

Jean laughs gayly and burbles vacantly to the buyer from the Chicken Ranch. The woman tries to escape from her endless twittering, but Jean's experiences in Westbrook Socials gives her a tactical edge. Alicia's rant on decorating is particularly useful and Jean hangs on like a terrier as she stifles the woman with a one sided discussion on re-modelling the Moonlight. Dragged through the pens of Wasters and asked her opinion on this Waster or that one, the woman is forced to stay away from the prospects Jean is after as the clock makes its inexorable way to the start of bidding.

Marsha catches Jeans eye, waving frantically to warn her the auctioneer is reaching the end of the 'S' grades and Jean makes her apologies and moves to the edge of the bidders circle.

"Here's the list Boss. First one should be up in a minute."

A blonde woman walks into the ring. Attractive, in her early twenties, she's wondering how she was persuaded by her husband to stand as security on his loan.

"Lucy Crane, aged 22. Debt security. Assessed as E12, skills as per sale list. The debt owner has a reserve value placed on this sale. Opening bids - do I hear 1000?"

Jean lets the price rise and the casual bidders drop out before she comes in at 7000. At 10000Eb the Auctioneer changes his call to 'selling' and Jean is the only bidder still in.

Two men and three more women cross the block before the Chicken Ranch Buyer appears and the bidding stiffens considerably. By the time the last of the surrendered securities are sold Jean's spent almost 100000. Marsha grins.

"The rest are wasters Boss. I wouldn't spend your money on them. They're poor prospects for what Louise tells me you're after."

Jean nods and goes to finalise the transfer of contracts. It's cost almost all their liquid cash and some funds that Galahad has tricked up from somewhere, but they've got the contracts they'd wanted.

In the buyers pen the new purchases are waiting.

"Right, here's how it is. Your contracts have been picked up by the Moonlight Ranch. They expire when you've settled your debts. If you want you can elect to have enhancements fitted - this will add to your contract debt, but will enhance your capability to pay off. Do you understand? Knowing this are you happy to sign your contracts?"

"This is slavery!" one of the men protests, prompting the Department of Employment Representative to step in.

"Actually it's not. You can leave at any time - there's a clause in your contracts covering that - the only qualification is that you have to settle your outstanding debts first. Your contract holder isn't permitted to cause you any permanent damage."

"But she can do anything else she wants with us!"

"You agreed to anything up to and including your use as organ donors. She has to release you in functionally the same state as she gets you in. If she wants to take your kidneys she has to provide functioning cybernetic replacements. If she want's to use you as breeding stock, that's her affair." the DoE Rep points out. "I've got your signed and notarised agreements. You were aware of this possibility when you signed. If you don't want to take the contract offered to you there is another alternative. You can still join the road gangs - pay off will take much longer and your working conditions will be much less agreeable, but that's your choice."

"All right. Show me where I make my mark." an Amerind girl says and a general flow starts towards the DoE Rep.

"If you wish to be considered for enhancement work, please complete Section two of the Contract form" Louise calls.

"There's a couple of good clinics locally." Marsha tells Jean. "I can make some calls, see if we can negociate a price?"

"You had yours done in them?"

"No. LA"

"I'll use Biotechnica then. We're almost on first name terms with their Night City Office. Louise, get me Biotechnica Night City - I want to know what they can do for us. Oh, and arrange transport for everyone out to the Ranch."

"On it. I'll ride back with them."

Jean leaves her purchases in the hands of her facilities manager and heads back to her car, but outside she finds the Chicken Ranch's buyer waiting.

"Neat move Missie. Rush me so I didn't have time to muscle in on the stock you were after."

"Nothing Personal -just Business."

The woman shrugs. "I got what I needed. There's always mattresses in the Wasters. You're looking for something in particular?"

"In the Psych profiles," Jean confides, "Actors who fuck."

The woman shrugs, "Not our end of the business, though we might have a couple of contracts to sell - if you're short?"

"Got to see how this batch shakes out."

The woman nods in understanding. "Call me if you need any more. See you around."

The sedan turns down the access road and makes its way to the outer gate, trailed by a hired minibus loaded with the new ES employees.

Anya pops the outer gate open and they pass inside the perimeter wire. In the skies ahead Jean spies a couple of small unmanned vehicles flying around her property.

"Jimmy?"

"It's Militech Ms Kelly. They're sowing air dropped sensors."

"That was quick."

"You told us to pick what we wanted. That was the best option within the limits your AI told us we could afford."

As the road dips into the first wash Jean sees a gate blocking the road guarded by a figure she's heard described. As they pull up she winds the window down.

"You're Cleo?"

"Please Ms Kelly. I really prefer Leo. Or C. It helps me stay....... distinct."

"From the artistes? I hope you're wearing plenty of sunblock if you're going bareheaded C. You alone out here?"

"No Ma'am. Harris and Chow are dug in a little way back off the roadway, covering the gate."

"The Militech men finished?"

"They're still sowing sensors. The place is so big its' going to take some time to get a permanent system fitted."

"You bound your breasts again?"

Cleo frowns. "I'm...... bigger than the other female staff, don't want to be mistaken for an 'E'."

"We could arrange a reduction. If you want?"

"Might want to breastfeed sometime. If you're offering enhancements I might extend my contract - go permanent - if the terms are right."

"Talk to me when you get relieved."

"Ok. See you later Ms Kelly."

At the ranch three busloads of people mill around the old barn. Part assembled tents lie scattered around and an angry looking crowd mills about.

"Jimmy, the barn please."

"It's Joseph Ma'am."

"Sorry. Joseph."

"They're twins Ms Kelly." Anya grins, "They swap places all the time. Try to avoid being seen together, play mind games with everyone."

"I didn't think my memory was that bad!" Jean laughs.

The sedan pulls up and Jean gets out. The crowd is doing a lot of shouting at whoever's in the middle. Jean gets the idea they don't like their accommodation. She catches a brief glimpse of Declan and Elana in the midst of the melee, trying to calm things down, but apparently without much success.

"Joseph. One round in the air please."

The Assault rifle is cocked and aimed skywards. The sudden shot startles the gathered protesters into silence.

"What in God's name is going on?" Jean asks.

The crowd pauses then focuses on Jean. The gabble of many voices speaking makes understanding their complaint impossible.

"One at a time. You." she points at a woman clutching a wailing baby. "Mrs Pintaro isn't it? Tell me what's up."

"We can't live in tents! I've a baby to look after. The hotel was bad enough. I just want to go home!"

The others babble in agreement. Jean lets them run for a little while then raises her hand.

"I was going to brief the employees first, but here's the current situation. As I told you, Microtech Night City was the subject of an attack with the intention of transferring you all into the hands of the people who organised the NC Offices destruction. To avoid them making further attacks we made it look as if we were complying with the contingency plans delivering you and your data to the Denver Office, but instead we diverted to here."

"So all that stuff with temporary offices, Motels and buses that change colour - that was to try and stop us being followed?" Mrs Pintaro asks.

"Yes. Unfortunately we didn't have time to set this up in advance. Hence the tents, but there will be accommodation under cover for the smaller children tonight and hopefully a hot meal will be provided shortly. All I ask is that you put up with tents whilst we arrange more permanent accommodation. Facilities for work should be constructed shortly so the research can continue. We'll be holding proper security briefs. I'd ask you to stay within the area immediately around the barn and away from the main building."

"You've brought us to a Brothel!" someone shouts from the back of the crowd and an outraged rumble sweeps through them.

"Can you think of anywhere safer McKinnon?" Jean snaps. "You fancy having nanites shot into your brain to make you a good little puppet for Denver's AI to work? Or would you prefer having your family threatened with Gang-rape by Argus's puppets? Maybe they wouldn't try and manipulate you through your family. Maybe they'd just ream your ass out until you caved in!"

"They wouldn't...."

"They Bloody well tried it with me!" Jean snarls. "Doctor fucking Larsen set me up for it so they could have your data!"

The crowd recoils as her Corporate facade slips away, revealing the naked fury beneath.

"You do what I tell you and you might see Rancho Coronado again. If you don't, then you might get lucky and die on your own. Stay away from the ranch-house and get to work discovering what it is that Argus wants from your research!"

Tunes creeps through the darkness towards the office block, his Tech scanner picking out the IR beams in the flower beds, their complex web making the beds all but impassible. Light from the office windows spills over the car park - now all but empty after the working day. Nothing but the solitary night guard's pickup and a Honda Metrocar left at this hour.

Tunes flicks the transmit key on his radio.

"Two cars. Night guard plus one. Lights on the first floor."

"We'll wait" the reply comes back. "What about building security?"

"The flower beds are rigged. I'm going up the tarmac."

Easing back into cover he removes the headset, the smart goggles and his other intrusion gear before walking openly across the car park to the front entrance and using the intercom.

"Yes?" the guard responds to his buzz.

"I'm looking for a Ms Kelly. She left some baggage at the airport and the bus firm said she was dropped off here."

"Kelly....... no. No Kelly in residence currently. Must be from that lot who took the first floor wing. They pulled out this morning - didn't leave a forwarding address though."

"You see them leave?"

"You'll have to ask the day guy."

Could I have a look around?"

"Ask the estate agent."

Tunes slips a 500 Euro note through the gap between the doors and the guard makes his way over from his desk..

"You're mighty keen to look over an empty office son." he says, taking the note and examining it before unlocking the door. "500 gets you a look around - nothing else."

"Sure. There's another 200 if I can look at the computer system."

"No damage."

Tunes wanders around the office. Obviously they cleaned up or had commercial cleaners in after they left - the place is bare of anything apart from the furnishings and the desktop terminals.

Tunes lets himself into the server room. Vacant slots stand waiting for the next occupants data, but he checks the system memories just in case. As expected though, they're bare of anything apart from the operating system and a few common utilities.

"They left this morning?"

"Think so. The day man said they just up and left on short notice. Maybe if you ask some of the folks who work here in daylight they could tell you more."

"You know where I could find any of them?"

"There's someone still in the insurance offices. Ask them."

"Thanks Pop."

Ten minutes later and another 1000 Euro poorer, Tunes makes his way back to the MPV parked at the edge of the property.

"Tell your client they did a flit this morning about 0900. Four gray buses and a van picked them up and headed towards Overton."

"Ok. But I think he'll be pissed."

"Not my problem. You owe me two grand for enquiry money."

"Better 2k for bribes than having to pay the Sherif for everyone we shot! Those buses? You think they could be....?"

"Could be.... If they are I don't want a piece of that run!"

"You and me both Tunes. I'll pass it on - let 'Mr Who?' sort it out.

Kerry frets at her desk, praying for strength. The irritation of her breasts tender skin is almost unbearable and the urge to tear the hair bra off almost irresistible.

"I have news from Las Vegas." Argus announces. "Our contact reports that the researchers did indeed disembark in Las Vegas and took up residence in a building there. But they apparently left yesterday morning. They were last seen leaving Las Vegas in the direction of Overton in a fleet of vehicles. I am allocating assets to try and track them as our contact reports the people he hired in Las Vegas have other commitments and decline further investigations."

"Use local Edgers. Back them up with an observation team. How many 'eyes' do we have at present?"

"Twelve at 'eye' status. I can instigate progression to full contact if you think this is wise?"

"No. We don't want to degrade your effectiveness. Bring the observation team to full sensory monitoring. How many personnel are incubating the 'eye' Nanowear?"

"I estimate 22% of the Denver staff have attained initial status."

"Dose the rest. Don't bring any of the remaining researchers beyond the initial stage and exclude me from your program. Begin laying connections for the 22% you've already got to initial status but refrain from adding their sensory inputs to your data stream."

"If you can give some of the eye nano to the edgers I can reduce the number of observers we send."

"Ok. Stick it in with the payment package - offer them skinweave or nanosurgeons or some such and slip them a dose of the specials ."

"You will have to authorise the nanites' programming."

"I'll unlock the nanoforge now."

"So what's going on?" Declan asks.

"I've got the research out of Denver's grasp for the moment. I suppose my next step should be pro-active rather than re-active. Take the fight to Denver."

"Isn't that a bit risky?"

"Not as risky as waiting for them to catch up with us."

"You think that's likely?"

"Galahad's done what he can to make it difficult......."

"And you've got Militech trying to turn this place into a fortress.

"I doubt that's possible. I can make it expensive to try and take us, but impregnable? I haven't the resources."

The sun starts to dip out of sight below the horizon and a set of headlights show on the access road.

"Looks like customers." Jean murmurs

"Got to keep them for the cover I suppose?"

"Yeah. You need to keep everyone out of sight."

"I was hoping for a walk in the moonlight."

"Well, we might manage that...."

The office is quite crowded with Jenny Sally and Marsha sat behind the desk. Galahad monitors proceedings from a bookshelf as they interview the new hires. Lucy Crane sits innocently by the door as they review her file.

"So Lucy. How did you end up as security on a loan?"

"Pauly, my husband, he needed the money to buy stuff....."

"What sort of stuff?"

"He was going to buy some softs, take them home and sell them to his friends then come back to buy me out."

"And....?"

"I don't know. He got the loan and then just vanished."

"You know that the Department of Employment have rated you primarily as an 'E'. They think you'd suit employment as a singer, an actor a whore a croupier or a bartender. It also says you test out highly for intelligence. Executive Solutions could have other employment prospects for you, but currently you've been hired as an actress to make porno movies."

"I understand."

"What experience do you have? Sexually I mean?"

"Well.... my husband."

"Preferences?"

"Umm. Hetero. I think."

Lift your skirt."

Without comment the blonde woman lifts her skirt

"Pull your underwear to one side."

Lucy complies showing off a closely trimmed blonde bush.

"Do you masturbate?"

"Umm."

"Don't be shy. It's not going to help."

"Yes."

"Congratulations. Like most of the population then." Jenny smiles. "How often?"

"Depends."

"Every few days?"

Lucy starts as Marsha takes a picture of her displaying her mound.

"She looks a lot like that girl Jean had with her this morning." Marsha comments.

Jenny thinks a moment. "Elana? She's got longer hair, but I can see what you mean."

"Would they make a good double act?"

"I don't know. Jean's doing something with Elana - you'd better call her Billie - she might not want us interfering."

"How easily do you come Lucy?" Marsha asks.

"Well.... um."

"Depends?" Marsha offers.

"You got a trainer here Marsha?" Sally asks.

"Yeah. A robot. It's an old Riordan model - a bit klutzy and no-one trusts it."

"Are you interested in the Company enhancement package Lucy?" Sally continues.

"Depends what's in it."

"Playbeing, AP Nano, maybe some other stuff - depends what the shrinks think you can handle and what you're selected to do." Sally says.

"Can you suck cock Lucy?" Jenny asks.

"Some - I mean I have, but I can only go so far."

"We'll have that fixed for you."

Sally turns to Marsha and murmurs "Tell Louise about the trainer Marsha - see if we can get it fixed up."

Marsha makes a note on her pad then turns back to the blonde woman.

"Let's see your breasts Lucy."

The blonde reluctantly sheds her blouse and bra, then Marsha comes around the desk to examine them.

"Raise your arms. Now lower them. Mmmm." she looks at Sally and Jenny. "Skinweave as well."

Sally indicates a seat

"Sit down Lucy."

Once she's sat down Marsha hands her a vibrator.

"Show us your technique."

Nervously Lucy takes the object.

"There's better in the catalogue." Jenny murmurs as the blonde parts her legs and runs a finger up her crease. Apparently she finds it a bit dry as she sucks on her fingers, moistening them with spit before returning to her sex.

This time the moistened fingers part the pink lips and find their way within

"Sorry. I'm a bit nervous." Lucy blushes.

"Do you need any help?" Jenny asks.

"Some lubricant..."

The Bunny girl walks around and drops easily to her knees between the blondes spread legs, bathing her sex with strokes of her moist tongue before Lucy has time to realise what's happening. Jenny's tongue homes in on the blonde girls clit and flicks it making her hips jerk and shiver.

"Better?"

Jenny slides two fingers between Lucy's swelling lips and into a belly suddenly grown moist.

"Much better." Jenny grins. "Carry on Lucy."

Lucy self consciously slips the tip into her entry and works it deeper. In and out, in and out, with no more than 2 inches of motion, until her legs clamp tight on her hand and her belly undulates accompanied by grunts of pleasure.

"That was quick!" Sally comments.

"That's the first." Lucy gasps, straining to work the tip back into a sex gone tight. "The seconds real quick and sweet! Ahh! AH! Unngh!!"

"Full mod." Sally comments making a note on Lucy's sheet.

"Ok. When you've finished, send the next one in Lucy."

Jean and Declan walk in the scrubland beyond the barn, their path lit by the light of the Moon.

"Shall we carry on where we left off?" Jean asks.

"What?"

She turns him sharply and seeks his lips with her own. After a moments hesitation Declan responds. His body presses against hers and Jean feels his arms enfold her as she parts her lips slightly in invitation, nibbling on his lip and enjoying his slightly stunned response.

She breaks their embrace and leads him to a slightly prominent rock. As requested a blanket has been laid on the sandy ground and a bottle of wine stands in a chiller accompanied by a pair of glasses.

"You've been planning." he says.

"Denying you time and space to evade." she smiles as she uncorks the wine and pours.

They drink and admire the night sky, the moon rising to shed faint silver light over the desert landscape. Jean moves back in, driving him backwards onto the blanket with hungry kisses. Her fingers seek the fastener on his trousers and Declan finds himself exposed to the cool night air, then enfolded in a warm grasp that strokes him to readiness.

"Let me get my pants off!" he protests.

He raises his hips to slide his pants down and suddenly the tip of his cock is enveloped in moist warmth. In the dim light he can see Jeans head slowly bobbing as she sucks him to iron hardness.

Without warning she swings a leg over him and positions his tip against her entry, then, wiggling her hips, eases herself onto him. Without further pre-amble she's off, leaning back and riding him hard, grinding his maleness against the back of her pubic bone, bending him so far that Declan fears she's going to do him an injury. Either that or he's going to flick painfully out of her when she rides up high enough.

With a sudden jerk she's pressing down hard on him. The lips of her sex seal firmly about his cock and he can feel her juices wetting his balls. She grinds against him, taking him as deep as its humanly possible for him to reach, the hard nose of her womb touching him, kissing the tip of him.

The burning tightness in his balls uncoils, spurting into her and she purrs as she feels the added wetness, her belly gripping him, drinking him dry.

They pause, then, feeling him soften, Jean dismounts leaving him gasping like a beached fish.

"You going to use and abandon me?" he smiles once his breath returns.

"Maybe. You got another one in you?"

"Not this second - give me a little while."

Jean reaches down and takes his flaccid cock between two fingers.

"Not too long. This is no good to me."

He laughs, but there's an edge of discomfort, of shame that he might be insufficient to the task, that he's failed somehow after giving his all.

Jean pours him another glass of wine, but he chooses another vessel to drink from, easing her onto her back and dropping between her thighs to lap at her sex.

The moonlight gleams from the wetness of her inner thighs and sex, but he moves straight in worshipping at the Temple of Womanhood. Jean runs fingers through his hair, relaxing and letting him do as he will, pleasuring her inexpertly.

Eventually he begins his ascent, kissing over her belly, then around her breasts. A warm softness strokes against her thigh, then pushes between saliva slick labia to sink into a well lubricated sex.

Jean gasps as it pushes deeper and deeper within, parting her legs wider and wider until he's in full possession of her. His hands capture her wrists. His lips press hers and his hips begin a thrusting twisting dance that she's only too happy to partner him in.

Jean frees her hands and pulls him higher so that the upper surface of his cock grinds against her clit and the tip of him rubs the back of her vagina.

"Yesss, Yesss. Like that. Do it like that." Jean hisses, keeping him high on her body and guiding his hands to her breasts.

The moon shines down, indifferent to the lovers below.

"My parents put me up as security against a home improvement loan." Victor sys, "They'll redeem the loan as soon as they can."

Marsha cocks an eyebrow sceptically at Sally.

"Your folder describes you as a potential troublemaker Victor. Would you agree?"

"In some circumstances....... things have gotten out of hand.

"The DoE discounted your reserve price as they view you as Road Gang fodder, the restrictions on what we can do with you are more relaxed. They recommended Lo-Jacking you and the use of disciplinary Cyberwear to ensure you stay out of trouble."

"They did?!?" he asks incredulously. "But they only do that if.......... I suppose it's the High School thing."

"And your association with certain ..... elements on your housing scheme. There's even a Black Mark from the Casino Owners Association."

"They found out? Damn! We thought we'd covered all the angles."

"You're highly rated for intelligence, which is why we've picked up your ticket in spite of the negative things. You've been listed for a number of enhancements anyway, but you might want to consider additions to the list."

Sally slides him a sheet of paper across the table.

"Anti Plague Nano, Enhanced Antibodies, Mr Studd, Neural Processor." he reads.

"Basic fit for your employment. The cost will be added to your debt."

"But if my folks buy me out?"

"Additional cost. We'll contact them first, give them a last chance to pay off cheap, but don't hold your breath. They've had plenty of time to start paying. Your on the surgery list for the day after tomorrow."

The AV touches down at McCarron and Argus's team of Edgers disembarks.

"So where are we Sharkey?"

"Vegas."

"Ohh! Casinos. Can we spend some time at the tables?"

"After we've found four grey buses and a van."

"Why didn't they hire locals?"

"Coz we're the best. Everyone knows Nevada runners are lazy."

"Let's get going then. I've a system I want to try at roulette......"

By morning the team of twelve has bribed, threatened and investigated their way around Clark County. Three of their members are in the Sheriffs Lockup awaiting transfer to High Deseret State Prison for employing overly energetic threats without the assets to settle the court case and two are on the slab after an exchange of fire with Sherif's Deputies.

"What do we know?"

"There's a fleet of Gray buses that transports locals to some research facility back in the desert. The locals get real tight lipped when anyone asks questions about the place. Clipper and Pixel had to run like hell from some Undercovers after asking too many questions, but these buses go the way our subjects are supposed to have left town.

"You reckon that's where they are?"

"Probably."

"Pass it on. The client'll want to know."

End part 5