The Kelfried Foundation Congress Center was the tallest building in the vicinity, mainly by virtue of its elaborate spires. Its actual habitable zone cut off quite a bit lower, putting it just barely on par with a few of the apartment buildings in its surroundings. Which was another way of saying that if you could stand the glare of the sun on its metal panels, and you got yourself a cushy spot on one of the opposite rooftops, you'd have a decent bird's eye view of the whole building, top to bottom.
Decker stared up at those buildings, the flat rooftops that provided a clear line of sight to at least a few of the Congress Center's auditorium windows. Then he grunted, grabbed his comms, and wasted no time ordering an airborne drone sweep of the roofs.
His superiors wouldn't be happy with the expense. The right to use airborne drone technology was only granted to K&O under an exorbitant license from Sankaku, and strictly speaking, there was no explicit call for it here. But he'd learned the hard way not to cut corners — or more accurately, he'd learned the right corners to cut. Some unpaid OT in the security detail would balance the scales. They knew how things worked. They knew not to question it.
A message from Ramirez buzzed on his comms. They were ready for him inside.
He squashed the cigarette into the ashtray by the Congress entrance, dusted off his hands, and held up his ID to the security detail at the door as he pressed his way back in. It was 17:05, and the black tie crowd was growing fast.
Walking in, he spied Dmitri Rodimov just inside the door, clustered with several K&O dignitaries — ancient, frail, and with three female models easily a quarter of his own age giggling as they served drinks and snacks to him and his attaché, blocking the entrance and generally being a nuisance.
Before he could duck away, the old man turned, smiled at him broadly and waved frantically for him to approach. Decker sighed and made his way across.
An athletically-built young woman appeared in his path, the way the infamous iceberg might have appeared before the RMS Titanic. She was slightly shorter than him, but even so, he found himself reflexively backing up, fingers curling into fists. He sized her up and down. She wore a plain powder blue shirt, a white men's tie, and carried a radio and a gun. Everything about her general stance indicated that she would be quite happy to use it.
"Brian! Come here, come here!" Dmitri had taken a few careful nonagenarian steps forward and was now grinning toothlessly at him. He turned to the woman, said something in Russian, and she stepped back with obvious reluctance. The sweep of her dark eyes over Decker as she did so indicated that just because her employer trusted him, she would be making no such hasty assumptions. With a sardonic snort, Decker tipped his hat at her and cautiously stepped past.
"Don't mind my new bodyguard, she is little bit... tense," Dmitri said to him, once Decker was in conversation. "Ah, but that is why I pay her. Tough on my enemies, easy on the eyes, yes?" He elbowed Decker with a frail elbow and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "You still have this old job? You should come work for me. A lot of work for someone like you, you know — I have so many connections, they would tear my arm off for the chance to steal you from Kelfried-And-Odin," he said, enunciating the full corp name in that overly careful manner of his. "These big companies, they are so caught up in their bureaucracy, yes? Private business, Brian. Private business is the true path for someone like you. Old Dima is still good for something. I can help you get a better job, yes?"
Decker plastered on a benign smile as he endured Dmitri's by now habitual recruitment pitch. Whatever amicability had grown between them over the years — largely as a result of the sheer number of times they'd ended up crossing paths at one K&O function or another — was entirely one-sided, a withering old man's overdue clawing at forging connections where he could, best he could reckon. As far as old world oil barons and Eastern European oligarchs went, Dmitri Rodimov was certainly not the worst of them — an old shark losing his edge in a sea of nastier, fitter sharks. That was about the kindest thing that could be said for him. Thus, Decker chose not to inform him that if ever a time arrived when he would be leaving K&O employment — perhaps sooner rather than later — he would rather eat his own gun than work for someone like him.
Still, Dmitri was probably one of the few people in the business so out of touch with K&O internal politics that he still thought of Decker as someone desirable and competent. That was almost enough to tinge his smile with something genuine. Almost.
"Sorry, sir, I can't stay," he said, trying his best to sound like he meant it. "Lot of work to do. I'm doing security. Have your people go on inside, alright? We need a clear path for the guests still coming in."
"You're in charge of this little thing?" Dmitri droned on, and Decker wondered if he'd even heard the request. "They don't value you, Brian. Come work for me, yes? I can get you good salary — enough for you to buy yourself many nice suits, get you out of those rags you always wear. And a yacht — man like you should have a yacht, when he's not working."
Decker smiled blandly, fists curling as he stuck them defensively into the pockets of his vintage trench coat — which, admittedly, had seen some wear and tear over the years. The bodyguard woman stared him down like she could see exactly what he was doing, but she could hardly have X-Ray vision. Probably.
"Be seeing you, Dmitri. Take it easy with the drink." Rich of him to say that, but it would look terrible if the man keeled over from a heart attack on his watch. He tipped his hat again and extricated himself from the encounter, having paid his due to networking.
He probably shouldn't hold his nose so high. If push came to shove, his connection with a certain K&O zone oligarch might be the only thing to keep him off the streets.
And wasn't that just a cheery thought.
Back in the foyer, he spotted Ramirez on the other side of a sea of schmoozers that was already thicker than he liked, talking with someone he recognised from the files. He sighed and made his way across, scowling here and there when he got jostled.
Ramirez nodded to him as he broke free of the crowd and came within speaking distance. He gestured at the infosec guy next to him.
"Our private contractor. Started work two weeks ago to buff up the network security in time for the big event. He'll stay another week," Ramirez reminded him, unnecessarily.
Decker regarded said contractor, an Asian man in his early thirties. He had immaculately-combed black hair and the kind of benign 'smarter-than-you' resting bastard face that made his knuckles itch.
The contractor held out a hand. Decker shook it.
"Tony Xu. PhD," he said with a smile he obviously thought was pleasant.
Decker closed his eyes and prayed to various assorted deities for strength.
"You're late," Decker grunted, glancing around. The evening gala hadn't officially started, but that wasn't stopping some of the early guests from helping themselves generously to the refreshments.
"Apologies," the infosec guy said, in a distinctly unapologetic tone. "My original contract specified no need for me to be on-site during the event, so I made other appointments."
"What kind of appointments?" Decker asked sharply.
The man blinked. "I taught a guest lecture at the Technical University. Cyberbionic engineering — it's the study of the interface between electrochemical augmentations and the difference engine that is the human nervous system," he explained, in a tone that now failed to be un-condescending, as well. "I arrived as soon as I could."
"You do all that, and private infosec?" Decker asked dryly.
Another self-satisfied smile. "I enjoy variety."
Decker could only grace that with a grunt. Eggheads were his least favourite type of person to deal with. They always seemed to know too much, always too eager to rub his face in it.
"The security you've added. Walk me through it," he said, gesturing to an emptier part of the foyer where they could talk while still keeping an eye on things.
Tony Xu opened his mouth.
What followed was a sea of jargon that only vaguely rang the bells of familiarity from the files he'd read. But the internal K&O infosec experts had given it their blessing, and that was all that mattered to him.
He peered over the man's shoulder at the tablet in his hands while sneaking glances at the crowd. Dmitri and the K&O dignitaries had made their way properly inside, thank God. His bodyguard was still doing an impressive job of looming as they mingled with high-ranking businessmen and their escorts. A few more models and actresses stood around lankily, intermittently looking bored and pretending to care about the rich executives surrounding them.
A lot of them were drunk already, and it wasn't even six. The gala was supposed to taper off at midnight. It would be a long, rowdy evening full of drunk rich people, and he was infinitely glad he'd left his days of being just the party muscle behind him years ago.
"Alright," he said, attention snapping back to the infosec guy. "Now show me what you've done with the security feeds. You said the software you're using is AI-assisted?"
"A machine learning algorithm trained in distinguishing noise and visual artefacts from true signal, yes. One moment, I'll need to authenticate my access to the mainframe..." Xu tapped furiously at the screen, then balanced it awkwardly in the crook of his elbow as he dug out his phone. Decker waited.
He blinked as a pretty, dark-haired little lady who looked too young for her champagne stumbled against him with a giggle. Reflexively, he patted his pockets — wallet, smokes, gun, access card. All seemed to be in order.
"Aha," Xu said triumphantly, looking up from his tablet. "There we go. If you'll allow me to demonstrate? I already went over this with your security team a week ago, but if you'd like me to do a quick refresher—"
"'Let's skip that for now," Decker cut in. "I need you on the floor. Best way to make sure it all stays working is for you to take care of it yourself." Catching Xu's dismayed look, he pressed on, "The contract you signed stipulates that you may be called in in emergency cases, which a highscale event like this can potentially become. The security you've added — you're the alleged expert there, and I don't want you to be five hours out if something breaks down and needs fixing. You got all that?"
The man frowned. "You want me to make the rounds?"
"You received the training for this, right?" Decker said patiently. Talk about being slow on the uptake.
"In this and my prior freelance jobs, yes."
"So what's the problem?"
"You already have a sys admin. I've met him."
"Sure, and he's one pair of eyes and ears. More is always better."
"Be that as it may, I am not a sys admin."
Decker snorted, now looking at the man with wry amusement. "So what are you saying? That it's beneath you?"
"I am overqualified for this, yes. But that is beside the point. The personal risk alone—"
Decker sighed.
"Look. I'm on the clock here and I don't have all night to debate this shit with you. You make the rounds. Talk to Ramirez again, I'll make sure he sets you up with an access card for the basic levels and some protective wear. You do this, and in exchange, we'll draft you any kind of review you like. A recommendation from the central K&O branch would open a lot of doors for you."
It was a bullshit offer — insulting, really — and Decker had been fully prepared for the egghead to negotiate him up to actual payment for the OT, ideally keeping it as slim as possible. But instead, all he got was a thoughtful silence, a little nod, and "Agreed."
"Huh," Decker said. "Well, that's settled, then."
Tony Xu still looked thoughtful, but was brightening a little. "I suppose it would be a good opportunity to gather this kind of field experience."
Decker grunted. "Yeah. Sure. Talk to Ramirez, he'll get you set up," he repeated. He clapped the man on the shoulder and walked away, pulling up his comms again.
Easier than expected, but he had too much to do to look a gift horse in the mouth.