Pete whistled appreciatively.
"With that tidbit under his arm, Marcus' proposal doesn't sound nearly as expensive."
"So where does that leave us?"
Eddie pursed his lips.
"That's what's been bothering me. This proposed program has a lot of sparkle and romance to it. It's going to get a lot of support. If we decide to fight it, it's going to be an uphill battle."
A warning bell went off in the back of Pete's mind.
"Did you say 'if we decide...'?"
Eddie sighed.
"There's one more bit of information that I haven't told you. It seems that Becker, Mr. Big himself, has been talking with Marcus at least once a week, sometimes daily. If he's taking a personal interest in seeing Marcus get ahead, we might want to think long and hard about our own careers before we set out to try to make the golden boy look bad."
8
The cliff towered grim and foreboding, fully the height of a three-story building. Except for a few scrawny weeds dotting its face, indicating outcroppings or crevasses, it was a sheer drop onto the rockslide. It was enough of an obstacle that even the strongest of heart would take time to look for another route.
The man at the top of the cliff didn't look for another route or even break stride as he sprinted up to the edge of the precipice. He simply stepped off the cliff into nothingness, as did the three men following closely at his heels. For two long heartbeats they fell. By the second beat their swords were drawn-the world-famous Katanas, samurai swords unrivaled for centuries for their beauty, their craftsmanship, and their razor edges. On the third heartbeat they smashed into the rockslide, the impact driving one man to his knees, forcing him to recover with a catlike forward roll. By the time he had regained his feet, the others were gone, darting and weaving through the straw dummies, swords flashing in the sun. He raced to join them, a flick of his sword decapitating the dummy nearest him.