muscles made.
"This is Kolosev," said Otto.
Lehmann grinned, went round to the boot and pulled out three components that he snapped together into a long rifle.
"I'll check out the offices," said Lehmann. "Better to be safe. I'll take up position on the roof, cover you all."
" Stimmt ," said Otto. Lehmann jogged off.
The light of day was growing stronger, heat coming with it, taking the chill off the autumn. Otto led them to a building whose sides were made of ragged cement sheeting, cracked single-glazed windows high up in its sides. He slid the door aside and stepped into a dark space shot through with mote-laden sunbeams. Efforts had been made to insulate the insides of the building with foamcrete, but it had been inexpertly applied and was full of gaps. Rusting girders dragged from other buildings propped up the roof. An array of computer hardware was stacked carelessly in a horseshoe round a mouldy desk, a tarpaulin strung above it. Farm machinery lined the walls, unidentifiable with age and splattered with foamcrete. The place smelled of old food and strong cannabis.
"Kolosev. Lazy. He should have set up in the office. His cables probably aren't long enough to reach his satellite dish, and he could not take the time to move his fat arse and buy more." Otto looked around. "He's still in here."
Chures drew his gun. "What about the offices?"
"Not bedtime yet," said Otto. "Little hackers are allergic to the sun. He's probably just finishing up for the night."
"This is normal, to hang around when you're coming to visit?" said Valdaire.
"He doesn't have anywhere to go," said Otto, "and a rat's maze like this, he'll see it is a good place to hide. It's either that, or booby-traps and a remote camera to catch us all being blown up. Gloaters, lurkers, runners – your three kinds of reluctant informant, so Richards says. Kolosev is a little of each."
"Great," said Valdaire.
"Kolosev won't blow us up. I know him, this is all he owns, all he's ever likely to own, because no matter how well he does he always loses it all because he can't bear to be parted from his mama. No," said Otto, "he's still in here." A coffee mug sat on Kolosev's desk, cooling in Otto's IR capable eyesight from yellow to green. He walked over to it, touched the back of his hand to it. "Still warm, so is the chair." He pulled out his gun. "Amateur."
"Kolosev!" called out Chures. "This is the VIA, come out now!"
" Genau , if he's not already shitting himself, he is now," said Otto. "Go easy on the threats, Chures, there's nothing these little hackers fear more than a visit from the VIA, and your agency's busted him a lot of times. He didn't much like his last stretch in the freezer. You will make him run."
"I was about to say we are only here to talk, Klein."
"It will not make any difference." Otto indicated upwards with his eyes.
"What?" mouthed Valdaire.
Otto pointed to Chloe. I can hear him . Otto sent the message via his MT to Chloe, his thoughts writing themselves across her screen. Breathing . Otto pointed his chin to a roof crux, flaking steel butted by a makeshift half-floor. A creak, audible enough for the others to hear. "Come down, Kolosev! Uncle Otto has come to say hello!"
Kolosev wasn't hanging around. There was a series of rapid scuffs followed by a crash as he flung himself out of one of the barn's filthy windows. Otto ran to the door to see Kolosev bounding through the wheat at close on fifty klicks an hour, high atop a pair of 'roo springers. "And there we are," said Otto, and tore off after the hacker.
Chures put up his gun. "Klein can handle that, let's crack the pendejo's system and see what he's got."
"I could do with some help." Valdaire grimaced, sweeping aside the sticky detritus of food, joints' butts and crusty tissues cluttering Kolosev's desk. She placed Chloe down on the cleanest part.
"You'll get it, in a moment," said