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suggested.
    Shockley cocked his head. “You’re a suspicious man, Mr. Cates.”
    “Last time I was scooped up into a hover, buddy, things didn’t end too well for me.”
    He smiled, a tightening of the corners of his mouth that implied the exact opposite of humor. “Mr. Cates, do you know a woman named,” he shut his eyes, “Candida Murrow?”
    I squinted at him. I knew Candy. I saw her all the time down at Pick’s, but I said nothing. The golden rule with cops—or fucking bureaucrats—was that you asked questions, you never answered them. The only question I had, really, was the identity of the piece of shit selling me out. There was no way the fucking triplets here had found me through their superior investigative work and street contacts. Someone had fucked me.
    I resisted the urge to reach up and touch the healing wound on my neck. Shockley opened his eyes. “Ms. Murrow—a fine, upstanding citizen, no doubt—was found dead late yesterday.”
    I blinked but didn’t react. I hadn’t heard. Big, happy Kenyan, enjoyed her work, her English theoretical at best, but useful. Or had been.
    “She died in a very … unusual way. Looks viral—quite gruesome. Dr. Terries is director of Public Health, and he is concerned. She is a known associate of yours, Mr. Cates. You have an … organization.” He said this as if the word tasted funny in his mouth. “Dr. Terries is concerned that others in your organization may be similarly … infected.”
    I gave him the bland smile again. “Never heard of Dr. Terries. I don’t have a fucking health chip, Mr. Shockley.”
    He nodded. “Yes. When was the last time you had contact with Ms. Murrow, Mr. Cates? Dr. Terries is mainly concerned with her movements over the last few days.”
    I fidgeted; let them believe I was disconcerted, nervous. The tips of my fingers touched the top of the blade’s handle, and I paused, taking my time. I still had a few minutes before we made it to our destination, and I would have only one chance at this, because the second after I moved they would leap on me: the Pusher would grab my mind and Shockley would be ready to toss me around just in case that failed. “I’m afraid I don’t know Ms. Murrow.”
    Shockley smirked and glanced at the girl, and I knew my moment had come; they were going to start Pushing some cooperation into me. I sucked in the crank air and pinched the blade’s handle between my thumb and forefinger.
    As I leaped up, unfolding my legs and pushing off the seat, the blade slid from my boot, slicing my calf up a little as it did. I locked my eyes on the pilot’s shoulder twenty feet or so away, cocked my arm back, and just as I felt the icy invisible fingers of Shockley’s mind on me, I launched the blade across the cabin. It sank into the back of the pilot’s neck, and he fell out of his seat as if he’d suddenly noticed gravity. With an explosive whine the hover flipped over, sending us crashing into the ceiling, which was now the floor.
    The icy invisible hand disappeared.
    I managed to duck my head under my arms and took the impact on my shoulders. There was a familiar wet cracking sound nearby, and as I launched myself at the tangle of well-dressed bodies I spotted the girl’s head, bent at a bad angle, her eyes wide in shock. I wasn’t going to have to worry about being Pushed anymore, at least.
    The hover flipped again, an instant transformation. I managed to slap an arm under one of the seats and held on for just a moment, releasing myself to plummet the last few feet right onto Shockley’s upturned face and neck. At the last moment he whipped both arms across his face and I stopped with a jerk, hung for a breathless second, and then rocketed back up to crash into the floor again, grunting as the rivets dug into my back and my skull bounced. I was pinned for a moment, but the hover obliged me again by suddenly yawing and losing altitude, rolling Shockley and his friend violently toward the cockpit.
    I