The Senator’s suite was in the penthouse of the Royal Corinthian, deep inside the secure zone of the Manhattan Arcology. Cyril had lost track of how many times he’d been stopped to verify his ID on the way from the landing pad, where he left his aeroframe, to the reinforced wooden door of the suite. Even though he was assigned to Eight’s Secret Service detail, he still had to go through the checkpoints. Too many attempts against Eight’s life with Sleeper clones lately. He looked up at the obviously genegineered suit guarding the door. A cheap vat job, too much gorilla not to show. Cyril transmitted his ID codes again, and followed with “He’s expecting me.”
The Suit looked down at him impassively, mirrored sunglasses hiding his gaze while he compared the ID data to the reality of Cyril’s meat. A moment later, he turned and knocked on the door before opening it to allow Cyril to pass.
The Senator waited inside, seated behind a sprawling antique desk. His oh-so-familiar boyish grin and tousled hair carefully designed to make anyone feel comfortable. It was a tried and true appearance combination that had worked flawlessly for the Progenitor of his cloned tissue’s rise to the White House, and Daniel Eight hoped to follow his own path there soon.
“Cyril,” Daniel said rising and extending a hand across the desk to clasp Cyril’s in a firm handshake. “Good to see you again, man. So glad you could make it.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“Siddown, siddown,” Daniel waved at one of the chairs across the desk and settled back into his own. Cyril noticed that Daniel’s chair was just an inch or two higher than his own, making him appear larger, more authoritative and in control. The calming hum of a white noise generator filled the air. “I have a job I need taken care of. My sources have informed me that the Mizushima Corporation is alpha testing a new cyberbrain design in one of their Memory Banks. I need you to extract one of them and deliver it to a third party.”
Cyril considered for a moment and replied, “I can probably do that, but it’s going to take time and I’ll need support. Mizushima’s security is top-flight, there’s no way I can get in and out in one piece, even in a SOTA battleframe.”
“Get what you need. I don’t want another debacle like that Techdowner raid in the Richmond sprawl.”
Cyril ignored the jibe, unusually direct for Mr. Eight. There was a possibility that whoever this third party was, they had leverage over him, or he really wanted this brain for himself. Rarely was the senator so blut. He said, “I think I know just the right person for the job, Sir. I’ll get started right away.”
Cyril knew the money would be there when he needed it. He had told the senator he needed another operator for the job so there would be an adjustment. That’s why he’d never go private sector. With the government you always knew the money was there.