Chapter 13: Operational Necessity

"You want my server access," Ryker said. "I want your network."

We were in the basement of a dead office building, the kind that hadn't been functional since the mid-2030s when the business district moved up into the Mid-Levels. The sub-basement still had power—someone maintained it, probably someone like Ryker—and we were sitting across from each other at a table that might have once held meetings about quarterly reports and resource allocation. Now it held two people who'd just agreed that they had a mutual problem.

"Your server," I said. "Not access. Full access. I need to be able to move through your architecture without triggering anything you've buried in there."

"I've got security measures," Ryker said flatly.

"I know you do. I've spent two years trying to figure out what they are. You're going to give me the master keys. All of them. And they don't get used for anything but the retrieval."

He nodded like I'd said something he already knew. There was a quality to the way he was listening—not waiting for me to finish, but following the shape of what I was actually saying underneath the words. He'd already thought through what I would ask for. He'd probably run three or four versions of this negotiation in his head before we ever sat down.

"What about your network?" he said.

"My brokerage has three tiers. Tier One is consultants—people who know things. They move information. Tier Two is the moving infrastructure—people who can physically transport data, move it through the market without drawing attention. Tier Three is the fence network—people who can change the shape of something, make it look like something else, sell it to someone who won't ask where it came from." I leaned back. "You want all three."

"I want secure movement for data that SILKSCREEN has flagged. The marker metadata has already been registered. They're looking for it now."

"That changes the cost."

"I understand."

But he didn't push back. He just waited, like he was interested in what my counter-terms would be. In a way that told me I'd been right about him. He'd already calculated what I would want. He'd already decided whether he could live with it.

"Tier One is off limits for this work," I said. "I can't expose my information network to SILKSCREEN if they ever catch you. Tier Two is available, but limited access. You tell me what you need moved, I facilitate it, I control the handoff points. You don't get direct access to my operators. And Tier Three—the fence network—you get what you can afford to pay for. Straight rate. I don't cut discounts when the heat is on."

He didn't blink. Didn't negotiate. Just nodded like we'd just closed the deal on something as simple as moving a package across the city.

"That works," he said.

That told me everything I needed to know about how much of a problem this really was. Ryker Vance, who'd built his entire operation around calculated risk and information advantage, was accepting my terms without trying to improve them. Which meant he'd already decided they were the terms he was willing to pay. Which meant he'd already run me through his probability matrices and decided I was readable.

"How long until you need the network active?" I asked.

"Tonight."

I didn't waste time on follow-ups. Instead, I started pulling out the access codes.