Know-It-All

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What was a fixer, really?

A person who took a client's needs on one end and handed missions to crews on the other?

Cade knew that was not enough.

Moving work between two sides only functioned when the information channels were clean. A reliable client laid out the real need, the fixer judged feasibility and danger, and then the job went to dependable people who could work fast.

The whole process had to lock together. Cade had even dragged a military style into it.

Contingency plans had to be written out properly. Every likely accident had to be considered in advance.

Maine thought it was a pain in the ass, but Cade kept doing it anyway.

There was a line in Cade's memory. Kurt Hansen, former Militech officer, had said it: think through what you are going to do before you enter the battlefield.

Judging by the results, the method worked. Aside from their first job, where Mr. Hands and Biotechnica had played them and left Cade caught in Arasaka's leash, the next two jobs had been clean.

The Scavs and Maelstrom had both gone half-insane with rage.

Angie's commission, strictly speaking, was trouble. The hardest parts were the information channel and the true objective.

They had to investigate Aye's movements without leaving tracks, even though the man left home with muscle around him. Then they had to find an opening.

To check someone's schedule, the obvious answer was a netrunner. Cade had options there.

But after half a day of discussion, he realized it was still not as easy as expected.

As Cade put it, Barghest turncoats were easy to find. Animals were different.

That gang did not love cyberware the way most Night City gangs did, and they did not leave many traces on the Net. To track them, you either tailed them in person or found eyes on the ground.

In that case, information specialists in Night City were not going to be much help.

Cade ended his call with Nix and rubbed his chin, thinking about how to dig up Aye's schedule.

The walk to the Stadium was long enough that Cade started thinking he needed a car once this job was done. Something like a Caliburn, maybe?

He walked while checking messages from vehicle dealers, then found the sleek Rayfield in the listings.

After staring at the price for a long moment, Cade's expression soured. He killed the screen and stuffed the phone into his pocket.

Caliburn, his ass.

One million eurodollars?

In his old life, he had slapped mods on that thing like they were free. He had never really thought about the fact that this single car cost more than his life.

No. Actually, one hundred thousand could buy his life. Cade could not stop himself from giving a cold laugh. That was one hell of a joke.

"Hey! Amigo!"

Cade had been walking with his head down and did not notice the drunk locals calling him from the side.

He looked over at a long-haired man trotting toward him with an excited face. The man's clothes were shabby, his hair was filthy, and he wore the traditional Dogtown style: whatever had not fallen apart yet.

"Saw you at the fights, didn't I?"

The man slapped Cade on the shoulder. "Lucky you were there, choom. Damn near lost my pants betting lately. Then you showed up. What I made on that match will keep me fed for a month."

"Say..." He hiccuped. "That chrome of yours. You Barghest?"

Cade thought for a second. "Yes and no. I'm out here earning my own meals."

"Hey, boys! This is the guy I told you about. The one who dropped that black Animal rhino. That chrome? Nasty. Put that gonk so far down he couldn't find north."

Several Dogtown gamblers and drifters gathered around Cade, all wanting a look at his arms.

Cade did not really mind these Dogtown residents blocking his way, even if they smelled less than pleasant. People who spent every day wandering the streets either carried debt, criminal records, or both.

But people like that also heard things.

Cade pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat and performed the oldest street magic there was.

Everyone gets a smoke.

"Choom, you're not like those Barghest dumbasses." The drunk burped. Free cigarettes made for instant happiness. "You a cop or something?"

Cade smiled and shook his head. "Just trying to ask around. You see the Animals often?"

A man with rusty facial chrome spoke up. "Animals work around the back-hill fights and the ripperdoc spots. Those are Aye's places. You can see some small fry now and then."

Cade nodded. "I'm looking to pay respects to the boss. Any route in?"

The man shook his head. "Animals respect muscle. You got chrome, so they won't love you. Best you can do is fight in the pit and make them some profit."

Cade shrugged. "That works too. Money is money."

"Come on, choom. You don't look desperate enough for that. Why sell yourself that cheap? If I were you, I'd smash up that fight ring. Few days later, Barghest will carry you back and make you work for them."

Cade shook his head. "I just like boxing."

"You are one strange man..."

"Ask Know-It-All," the quieter man said. "Left side of the Stadium black market. Sells dark BDs and all kinds of nasty junk. The bastard has channels. He might help. Animals don't come to the front often, so be careful. Don't let their bodyguards drag you out and beat you half to death."

Cade had what he needed. "Thanks, choom."

At EBM Petrochem Stadium, Cade stood in the corridor and watched the surging crowd. There were far too many people selling illegal braindances and random trash.

He really should have asked what Know-It-All looked like.

With no better option, Cade started asking booth by booth.

The first stall belonged to a Japanese woman who was yawning behind her wares. Cade looked at the BDs, gathered his courage, and asked, "Are you Know-It-All?"

'God. I really am an idiot.'

The woman's eyelids lifted. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Cade stood and left.

That same awkward exchange happened several more times. The last stall belonged to a skeletal old man wearing a BD wreath while his body twitched nonstop.

Still lively at his age. Cade held one of the braindance shards with a complicated expression.

He waited for the old man to finish riding it out.

The BD wreath's light finally died. The old man looked at Cade crouched in front of the stall.

"Browse if you want."

"I'm looking for Know-It-All."

The old man stared at him. "That one's a hot BD, young man. Fifty eurodollars. No bargaining."

There he was.

Cade felt the Barghest patrol behind him move away.

"Name a price. I need someone found. Animals. Schedule, movement patterns, anything useful."

The old man shook his head. "I can dig up some of it. No promises. What I have comes from people all over Dogtown, so how you use it is your problem."

Cade remembered what Nix had told him. Outside Barghest's own use, Dogtown's subnet was barely available to regular residents. Plenty of locals could not keep the lights on, much less keep themselves properly connected.

If Cade wanted real tracking data, he needed a tracker implanted into the target's head, then he could analyze something valuable.

Cade nodded. "Fine. If you can do the work, money won't be the problem."

"Pay first. Three thousand eurodollars."

Cade gave a cold smile. "Do I look stupid? You open at three thousand? Deliver something useful, and you'll get the rest. Maybe we work long term after that."

While the two of them negotiated the scope of the follow-up information, a hand reached toward Cade's shoulder.

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