((This chapter heading comes from the song Electricity by Delain.))

Chapter 4
I Can't Forget, Can't Get the Fever Down

Immediately after their talk with Johanna, Francis set up cameras in their room. Adam was pretty certain that this wasn't exactly permitted, but he refrained from pointing that out, sensing his unease. That the hacker got into a mild altercation less than a minute after they'd entered the restaurant – apparently, someone had forgotten to tell the waiter that this was their table – was another indication that he didn't trust any part of this entire arrangement. Other than that, the trip started out calm enough.

They left the ship in Hungary, in a place called Mohács. From there, they would take a bus to first Pécs and then on to Apatin. Adam had to admit that before this, he hadn't heard of any of those places. Maybe the cliché was true that Americans didn't know anything about Europe. Or maybe these places weren't all that significant to begin with. 'Why on earth do we have to take a bus now?' Francis asked. 'David said … Stop laughing.'

'I'm sorry. No, that was a lie. Don't hit me!'

'Like that could hurt you. I could throw a mule at you and you'd brush it off.'

'You couldn't lift a mule, let alone throw it.'

'Jensen!' Francis tried and failed to hide his grin. 'Still. Why?'

'You said you didn't like ships.'

'No, I didn't say that, even if it's true. But I like busses less. These people are weird, Adam.'

'They're not talking to us anyway. They don't speak our language. To answer your question, the jetty in Apatin was destroyed by an ice floe over a decade ago. Apparently, they couldn't be arsed to repair it for the handful of crazy Germans that arrive every year or so. It's not like Apatin is a metropolis.'

'No shit. I just …'

'You don't want to transport your rather sensitive equipment in a bus that has to travel over bad roads.'

'Exactly. God, you know me way too well.'

Adam smiled at him and brushed a thumb over his cheek. 'No way. Let's go. We don't want to be late.'

They were among the last travellers to reach the bus, which meant they couldn't find a seat near Johanna, who had wanted to talk with them about what would happen in Apatin exactly. The three agreed to re-arrange themselves after lunch in Pécs and make sure they could talk. Until then, Adam wasn't too worried. There would be time enough.

Ϡ

Frank was one of the first people to get back inside the bus, followed by Johanna, who planted herself on her original seat. Frank sat behind her, waiting for Adam, who was at the front to buy water bottles.

Before he got anywhere near, and to Frank's eternal astonishment, an aging, yellow-haired woman started yelling at him in a slightly guttural, odd variety of German. All he could do was stare at her and listen to the gibberish. 'Sorry, Madam, I don't understand a word,' he told her, to make the point. It didn't stop her for more than a moment. Instead, the other equally yellow woman on their bus – her sister, it had to be, they looked like it – joined her in her incomprehensible shouting. While Frank wondered what sort of person screamed at someone with such determination, even when it was clear that the target didn't understand a single damn word, Johanna rose from her seat and yelled back. Adam came to them and stood there, exchanging a confused glance with Frank.

As soon as he was there, he was the focus of the sisters' attention. Many people were cowed by his appearance. They had been before he'd been augmented, seeing how he was tall and muscular and could look menacing enough if he wanted to, but those two were unimpressed. Frank still didn't understand much, but apparently the word hanzer was the same in both languages.

Maybe Scotland and the peace there was had made him more sensible. Maybe it was just that it was Adam. He had no idea. But Frank blew a fuse. He practically jumped from his seat, standing almost a head taller than either of the women, and glared down at them. 'Shut up, you absurd attack chickens.' He hadn't yelled. He never did. But they did gape at him, so maybe they did, in fact, understand him. 'I don't know what you want, and I don't give a damn. Make space, you're standing in the way and your hurting everyone's ears. Now shoo. Get in your coop.'

Johanna was forcing herself not to laugh. When one of the siblings started to stutter something outraged at Francis, she failed. Badly. She let out a guffaw and said something in German again. The sisters went off to the front, faces scarlet under their yellow hair, probably to complain about them. Frank looked at their retreating backs. 'What the hell was that about, even?' he asked.

Johanna collected herself. 'The seats. You took their seats.'

'There is plenty of room. A bunch of people were sitting alone before, we just moved forwards two rows.'

'No, you don't understand.' Johanna put on a very serious expression and held it for about two seconds. 'These were their seats. You stole them. Those two, they take this trip regularly. They feel more entitled every damn year. This was very refreshing.'

'Who were they even?'

'Attack chickens, apparently. I don't know their names.'

Adam watched them wistfully. 'They don't look happy at the result.' As they passed them to take seats behind them, they snarled something incomprehensible at them. 'Do we want to know?'

'She said you two will never find wives.'

Frank burst into laughter. By the time he collected himself, they'd left Pécs behind. 'So,' Johanna said. 'First of all … I want to invite you to my wedding tonight.'

Frank blinked. 'Your what?'

Johanna made a face. 'My wedding. I'm getting married to Ilya Grigorowich Mukhin. I want you to be there because the celebration will be at his house in Apatin.'

'You look about as happy as someone going to their own execution,' Adam observed.

'Because that's how it feels. I hate him. He says he loves me.'

'He's the guy, isn't he?' Frank said softly. 'He's the one we've been talking about. You're pretending … this is insane, don't do that.'

Johanna pursed her lips. 'I have to. My family is fond of him, and if I want to find out anything about what he's doing, I have to play along.'

'I get that. To a point. But isn't that a little drastic?'

'He has some pretty serious security. I've planned this for a while, and I figured that this is the one way I could make sure I could get someone into his place so they can have a look at his computer. When this is all over, I'll divorce him. Not that I'll get much out of that, since everything he owns is stolen.'

'I …' Frank fell silent. 'Well. Sure. It's your decision.' He thought of the plans for his and Adam's wedding and tried to imagine getting married as part of sort of scheme. It sounded insane. 'So. Apatin. What do we have to know?'

'There's not much to say about Apatin in terms of dos and don'ts. It's officially a city but it looks like a village. Tonight you'll be at Ilya's house and hopefully find something. Tomorrow we – you two and I – will drive to our base. Ilya knows about that, by the way.'

'Of course.'

'If Apatin is at the arse end of nowhere, where we're going is the butthole. Believe me. I'll show you the factory. You see, Ilya thinks we're all friends and that I want to hire you for our security. He knows that I had close contact with David Sarif, so it makes some sense. He … doesn't like it, I know that much, even if he never really did protest.'

'Do you believe that he is dangerous?'

'No. He's a rat. But he's scared of his own shadow. Don't worry about him. If I did hire you, he'd try to get everyone else to mob you until you give up.'

'Sounds like someone I can deal with,' Adam said with a small smile in Frank's direction.

The hacker blushed crimson. 'Never underestimate an enemy, Jensen. You're not a cat and as far as I'm concerned, you're on your fifth life.'

'What?'

Frank started ticking off his fingers. 'You were shot in the head, exploded, drowned, and had your brain fried in the vicinity of an angry turret. I think more of that will give me a heart attack.'

'Francis, I never died. I mean, that first time, I was clinically dead, but …'

'I don't care. For all I knew, you were never coming back any of those times. So be careful. Even if you think he's no more of a threat than I was, be careful.'

Adam cupped Frank's face, and his frenzy ebbed away. 'I'll look after myself, Francis. I promise.'

Johanna looked from one to the other, her expression unreadable. 'Caution is always a good idea. Ilya may not have the balls to do anything, but he has a few security people that are little more than thugs, I believe. I tried to persuade him to have them off the place for our wedding, but I don't know if he agreed.'

Frank shook himself. 'It … doesn't matter. Adam can't do this anyway.' He stood and reached up to the rack above their seats where he'd stowed a laptop. 'I'll have to prepare a few things. If his private computer is connected to your intranet, then I only need a few moments to give us an opening, unless we're very unlucky.' A small smile tugged at his lips. 'You should rent us a car, Jensen. Oh, and you will drive us to Johanna's wedding. I'll be inebriated.'

'What?'

'Is that your word of the day? Trust me.'

'Speaking of which, you should call me Jo. My American friends do, and Ilya would find it strange if you didn't.' She frowned. 'If you get drunk, can you still do whatever you want to do?'

Frank fired up his computer and grinned up at Johanna, who was glancing at him over the backrest of her seat. 'Don't worry. The less you know, the better you sleep, as your fiancé might say.'