"Mary Rosenblum - Search Engine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rosenblum Mary)

final argument, but it had been damn close. Several data-file icons floated at the bottom of the field. Food
preferences, clothing, personal services, sex. Aman nodded because the feds knew what he needed and
it would all be here. "Urgency?" he asked.

"High." The suit kept his eyes on the runner's light-scribed profile.

Aman nodded. Jimi was getting tense. He didn't even have to look at him тАФthe kid was radiating. Aman
touched the icon bubbles, opening the various files, hoping Jimi would keep his mouth shut. Frowning,
because you never wanted the client to think it was going to be easy, he scanned the rough summary of
the runner's buying habits. Bingo. He put his credit where his politics were. Not a problem, this one. He
was going to stand up and wave to get their attention. "Four days," he said. Start high and bargain. "Plus
or minus ten percent."

"Twenty-four hours." The suit's lips barely moved.

Interesting. Why this urgency? Aman shook his head. No kinky sex habits, no drugs, so they'd have to
depend on clothes and food. Legal-trade data files took longer. "Three point five," he finally said. "With a
failure-exemption clause."

They settled on forty-eight hours with no failure-exemption. "Ten percent bonus if you get him in less."
The suit stood. For a moment he looked carefully and thoroughly at Jimi. Storing his image in the bioware
overlay his kind had been enhanced with? If he ran into Jimi on the street a hundred years from now he'd
remember him. Jimi had damn well better hope it didn't matter.
"They really want this guy." Jimi waited for the green light to come on over the door, telling them that the
suit hadn't left anything behind that might listen. "The runner's wearing Gaiist sign."
No kidding. Aman knew that scrawl by heart.

"What did he do?"

"How the hell should I know?" Aman touched one of the file icons, closing his eyes as his own bioware
downloaded and displayed on his retina. That had been the final argument with Avi.

"Oh, so we just do what we're told, I get it." Jimi leaned back, propped a boot up on the corner of the
desktop. "Say yessir, no questions asked, huh? Who cares about the reason, as long as there's money?"

"He's government." Aman blinked the display away, ignored Jimi's boot. Why in the name of everyone's
gods had Raul hired this wet-from-birth child? Well, he knew why. Aman eyed the kid's slender,
androgynous build. His boss had a thing for the African/Hispanic phenotype. Once, he'd kept it out of the
business. Aman suppressed a sigh, wondering if the kid had figured it out yet. Why Raul had hired him.
"How much of the data-dredging that you do is legal?" He watched Jimi think about that. "You think
we're that good, huh? That nobody ever busts us? There is always a price, kid, especially for success."

Jimi took his foot off the desktop. "The whole crackdown on the Gaiists is just crap. A bread-and-circus
move because the North American AllianceтАж"

Aman held up a hand. "Good thing you don't write it on your head in light," he said mildly. "Just don't talk
politics with Raul."

Jimi flushed. "So how come you let him back you down from four days? An Xuyen is already backed up
with the Ferrogers search."