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Running Scared

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Ones and Zeros

Paying the cheque in had been a straightforward matter. Cavatt's was an old bank, quiet and discreet. Almost like a private club, it was close to impossible to get into without an introduction from an existing client. Thorne had figured out soon after his first couple of private jobs that money is no good without somewhere safe to keep it. His opportunity had come when he had taken care of a nasty piece of business for a certain member of the British royal family. They may not have the positions they once did, but their money and power hadn't slipped away. Spreading big money around the world always had associated problems and Thorne was a problem solver. His price had been an introduction to Cavatt's. Sometimes a word from the right person is worth more than any monetary reward.

Cavatt's offices were understated luxury. An aura of old charm, yet with the pervasive smell of money. There were no questions and soon electronic ones and zeros would be quietly updating in several other computers as the money slid anonymously into accounts in Cayman, Austria and elsewhere. Carefully managed to avoid triggering any money laundering flags that all banks had these days.

Thorne now sat in his spinner in the Cavatt's sheltered spinner parking garage, getting his thoughts organized to plan his next move. "What does Omni really want? What are the missing pieces here?"

He had been lucky over the years. Oh, he was good, but there had been several occasions where it was so nearly him lying face down in his own blood instead of his target. It was an extra sense the best blade runners developed. More than simply an enhanced survival instinct, it sometimes seemed to come down to just pure luck. He'd explained his theory once to an old blade friend who had also tried to get out of Rep-Detect, but had been dragged in for one last job, "Its like everyone has this pot of luck to last them their whole lives. A good blade uses his luck in large chunks. But there is only a limited supply - when it's gone, that's it. You're done." Rick's pot had lasted just long enough to get him through his last job, but must have gone dry. They said he'd been killed while pursuing a particularly nasty group of escaped Sixes. Those with inside information knew he'd actually done the job, but then run off with another replicant. "Fool."

Thorne had a strong feeling that his own pot of luck was getting close to empty. His instincts and skills would take him a long way, but at some point… "Damn! I gotta get out of this business! Time to take the money and buy my way outta here. Soon as I finish this one last job…"

His money - hiding in ones and zeros. Shadow money in black and white strokes. Reflecting a shadow life in a black and white world. He may feel like the grey shadow hiding in the middle of lies and deceptions, but in the great computer of life it still came down to ones and zeros. One - you're alive; Zero - you're dead.

Thorne had felt the slight lump in the corner of his wallet when he was completing his financial transactions. Small comfort. His thoughts turned back to Sandeman. "Perhaps you were right, old friend."



Option 1 - Remembering Sandeman

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Date: 2002-07-20 16:15