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down—as she bound the electrical signal into the transponder. The device jumped with as much life as the man did.
    “Here.” Paul kicked the brake tabs on the corner wheels of the bed and pulled it around to trap the body between the floor and the low bed. Liam’s limbs thumped against the slats, his heels cracking the wood. “Enough?”
    Vyn forced out a thank-you and untensed her shoulders. Watching him push a bed over a twitching corpse was…disturbing. Probably more than her working on one. The calm way he solved her problem… She didn’t usually mix with people like him.
    He gave her a short nod and dropped a small black backpack down beside her. He threw her jacket onto the bed. “You have three more minutes.”
    “All right.”
    She had enough information to replicate his broadcasting signal. It wouldn’t fool them for long, but maybe it would give them time to get to wherever the hell they were going. Her fingers tapped out magic, the crackle of the feed, the pulse of his reanimated thought patterns fire under her fingertips.
    The transponder stabilised. Vyn bit her bottom lip and pushed herself up. The bed thumped with each spasm of Liam’s body, and the air filled with the uncomfortable stink of warm meat and singed hair. The signal wouldn’t last. “I’ve done what I can.”
    She put the remaining gear into the new bag and rifled through her jacket for the money and simulacrum case. They joined the other equipment. She stripped off her gloves and wrapped them into a tight ball. She’d only touched him through thin anti-static gauze but still she wanted to scrub her hands.
    “You’re done?” Paul handed her a black fleece jacket. He stared down at the twitching corpse, Liam’s face jerking into the carpet. A thin smile touched his mouth. “Let’s go.”
    “Where?”
    “The Box.”
    “It’s cold-world?”
    “In a way.”

    “Nothing but honest.” Vyn bit out the words and his eyes narrowed on her. “So…” She waved her hand at the narrow staircase leading down to the garage. “After you.”

Chapter Seven
    The cold, damp air chilled the sweat against her forehead and she drew it into her lungs, the fresh wetness of the surrounding greenery a pleasure. Nothing seemed to grow in S-District, where everything was grime and waste and decay.
    “This way.” Paul pulled the back door shut and took her arm. He led the way down the woodchip path, the lights from the surrounding houses casting a weak shine over the wild thicket of plants, bushes and trees.
    The distant hum of vehicles and the underlying itch of the Mind pushed against her skin. She’d forgotten how close and thick every breath felt here, especially as the hill loomed over them, the Corporation tower a stretch of light into the darkness.
    She stared up and willed her vision not to spin. Her thoughts still whirled. How could they get into the tower? Its security was reputed to be incredible, every hack impossible. Rumours swept through the Fomorians, of course. Everything from armies of synthetic robots to secret alien technology. The men who had butchered her skin had designed it. Maybe it really was guarded by a power from the bottomless pit. She could break into the upper tier of the Mind—the virtual space—but she had no hope in hell of getting past the tower’s impenetrable physical walls. Her gut twisted. “It’s in there?”
    “Not exactly.”
    Vyn blinked. “It’s not?”
    “We have an in.” Paul flexed his grip around her arm and increased his speed, his boots silent on the uneven ground.
    “You’re certain?”
    “I’m certain.”
    She stared at him, a sliver of light etching his profile. Was that a flicker of…something? He was obviously only completely honest with pneumatic blondes.
    “I need to know what I’m doing, Paul.” She glanced back to the darkness of his house. Her voice dropped and the rush of nervous heat through her flesh made her chest tight. “I’m complicit in the murder of a