“My reply contains some phrase about chewing my leg off.”

“How long until you talk to Joaquin Beron?”

“Couple of minutes.”

“Loop me in, please.”

“You got it.”

The vehicles encircled block seventeen, driving over the surrounding gardens, tires tearing up the lush grass. Seventeen was one of the smaller blocks, the dark external paneling fading to mud-brown in the relentless assault by Althaea’s raw climate.

Lucius led five paramilitaries through the front door, while Yuri and Jessika waited in the vehicle. More paramilitaries deployed around the block. Yuri could see people in the neighboring blocks pressed up against the glass, watching in amazement. The light outside was dimming as thick black clouds rolled in; big drops of rain began to splatter against the windscreen.

“We got him,” Lucius announced. “The location is secure.”

Jessika pulled her pink jacket over her head as they scurried from the vehicle to the entrance. The rain was becoming a monsoon deluge, hitting Yuri from every direction as the wind whipped it around, plastering his hair against his scalp.

“So you and Lucius?” he said. “I didn’t know. How long’s that been going on?”

Raindrops slithered down the puzzled expression on her face. “What?”

“He seems like a good guy.”

“Wow, my opinion of your detective superpower just took a massive dive.”

“I know what I saw…”

“No, you don’t.”

“You need to inform HR.”

“What?”

“I knew a guy, back in the day; basically a good guy, but a dick with it. He and one of my operatives hooked up. They didn’t follow company procedure. It didn’t end well.”

“Good pep talk there, boss, thanks.”

“Just saying.”

She shook her head in bemused dismay as they slipped into the block.

“Give Poi Li a visual,” Yuri told Boris. The altme would relay the feed from his tarsus lenses.

Joaquin Beron was a small man, a good head shorter than Yuri. His dark hair was styled in braids tight against his skull to try to negate a receding hairline. Tattoos glowed softly on his neck, snaking down below the collar of his green overalls. Yuri got Boris to run a scan on the patterns, but they weren’t listed as any gang type.

Joaquin Beron was in the workshop at the rear of the building, sitting on a chair. The tactical team had followed Yuri’s directions perfectly. His ankles had been zip-locked to the chair legs, hands fastened behind his back. Two of the paramilitaries stood on either side, large carbines held ready—not threateningly, but with easy confidence.

Jessika was shaking the water from her jacket as they walked across the concrete floor, surrounded by big fabricator units that were humming away efficiently.

“Seems like a legitimate setup,” Lucius said. “I can pull some specialists in to go through his network if you want?”

“No need,” Yuri said.

“You guys,” Joaquin challenged, his voice high with bravado. “You are in shit so deep! I got rights, you know. My lawyer’s going to bust your balls for this!”