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nevertheless unintelligible.
    Rik ground his
teeth and switched to audio. The reader began speaking the book
into his aural implants through his cogplus. It wasn't a great
success; the dodgy cogplus and the cheap reader couldn't quite
communicate properly, and between them they managed to lose several
words in every paragraph. It created some interesting sentences and
forced an unnatural level of concentration. So much, in fact, that
Rik didn't notice the young man standing beside him until he felt a
touch on his shoulder.
    Immediately
Rik was on his feet, his hand reaching for his absent weapon.
    “Excuse me,”
the man said in a suave English accent. “I didn't mean to startle
you. My name is Rajan Shah. I'm with the security services.” He
didn't show a badge or exchange any ID. Rik knew full well that
'security services' didn't mean the airport rent-a-cops. It almost
certainly meant MI5, and that could only mean trouble.
    “I'm sorry,”
Rik said, stalling. “I don't understand.”
    The young man
smiled politely. "I'm sure you do, Mr. Drew." He stepped back a
pace and indicated the route back towards the main buildings. “We'd
just like to ask you a few questions.”
    Rik did a
quick scan of the area. There was a tough-looking guy waiting along
the route Shah wanted him to go. There were also at least two
others standing back and trying to look inconspicuous. He looked
wistfully at the big windows that opened out onto the hopper pads
and the tall, white VTOL aircraft standing outside like monuments
to the Space Age. He'd probably save the spooks the job and kill
himself if he tried jumping through those great slabs of glass.
    He turned back
to the young man beside him. Shah was a slender man, tall and
rather elegant. But you could never tell, these days, what kind of
cybernetic or genetic augmentations a man had. Accepting that they
had him in a corner, Rik nodded his acquiescence and let Shah lead
him away.
    They had
barely gone two paces when there was a scream from within the
lounge. Everyone turned to look at the screamer, then at the window
she was pointing at.
    A black female
figure hung upside-down outside the window, poised like a diver in
mid air. In a breathless moment as everyone gaped, the woman drew
back her fist and punched the glass. The huge pane exploded into a
million pieces, and the woman swung in through the curtain of
shards, scattering them over the panicking crowd.
    “You're going
to need your gun,” Rik growled at Shah, who was staring,
mesmerised, at the upload. “She's after me.”
    The upload
turned a neat, twisting somersault and landed on her feet, facing
Rik. Glass rained down all around her like a sudden spring rain. It
bounced harmlessly off her hairless, artificial body. Her skin,
lips and fingernails were as black as soot. Her eyes gleamed like
black marbles behind black eyelids. Even the nine millimetre
automatic in her hand was black. It was impossible to read her
expression. All Rik saw in that pretty face was focus and
intent.
    Shah was in
motion at last, shouting to his troops, shouting at the crowd. He
pushed past Rik to stand between him and the upload, gun in
hand.
    The woman was
perfectly still, holding the position she had landed in, balanced
on her toes as if ready to dance. Only her head moved as she
glanced around the room, picking out Shah's men, so obvious now as
they converged on her.
    When she moved, so did Rik.
    Gunfire
erupted all around. The upload was firing at Shah's men, scattering
terrified travellers as she raced to and fro at superhuman speeds.
The MI5 agents were firing back at her, dodging around the
screaming, yelling people, trying to get a clear shot.
    Rik kept low
and ran for the boarding gate. He was almost there when a plastic
chair beside him twanged like a rubber band as a bullet went
through it. He threw himself sideways and turned to see the upload
clinging to the ceiling, tracking him with her gun. Bullets smashed
into the plaster panels