by Mick Farren
As the table tilted, Phaid's fuse tube slid towards him. He grabbed the weapon and threw himself backwards as hard as he could. He hit the ground with much more force than he'd intended. It knocked all the breath out of him and for an instant he thought he'd broken his back.
The three of the Adjudicator's guards stationed outside burst into the room with weapons in their hands. They hesitated in the doorway, trying to make out what was going on through the clouds of dust and smoke. It was a fatal hesitation. The intruders' blasters roared again and all three were cut down, spinning backwards and collapsing like puppets with cut strings.
Orsine had a tiny fuse tube in his hand. He fired and rolled sideways. An intruder screamed and staggered. The carpet burned as three blasts hit the spot where he'd previously been lying. The last of his gorillas was caught in the crossfire. He grimaced and clutched his arm, but stayed on his feet. His blaster roared and a second intruder went down.
Phaid, who'd been flat on his back trying to breathe, was aware of a figure standing over him levelling a blaster. Phaid shot desperately from the hip, without even aiming. To his surprise, he caught the intruder full in the chest.
Phaid scrambled quickly to his feet. There was now only one attacker still standing. Not liking the odds of three to one, the intruder darted for the door. He was stopped, however, by the blue lash of a stun blast. Two android waiters were standing there, presumably to keep the violence from spreading to the rest of the eating house.
Orsine walked slowly to the stunned Day Oner. He coldly pointed his fuse tube and pumped a long discharge into the still living body. Then he turned to look at Phaid. Phaid hoped that he would never be the one to cause a man to look the way Orsine did at that moment.
'Scarlin-Fell has finally overreached himself. It is now time to crush bugs.'
Phaid was bewildered.
'I don't follow you. Surely these people were Day Oners.'
Orsine laughed. It wasn't a pleasant laugh.
That's what you're supposed to think.'
'It is?'
'Look at their shoes. Look at the clothes under those filthy duster coats. They've expensive suits; no shirtless Day Oners can afford stuff like this.' He bent down and picked up the limp arm of one of the-corpses. 'This one even has a manicure and nail polish.'
For the first time, Phaid realised that one of the attackers was a woman. Orsine let the arm fall back. He had an expression of disgust.
'Day Oners, bah! These are a hit squad from Scarlin-Fell, a particularly inefficient hit squad into the bargain. The organisation is well rid of them. This whole episode has the greasy fingermarks of Scarlin-Fell all over it. I can just imagine the way he thought it out. Let the old fool gorge himself, and take him when he's stuffed and drowsy. He's going to learn to his cost that the old fool isn't so easy to take.' He noticed something among the wreckage on the other side of the room.
'Sweet Lords! Sena!'
The girl was lying against the remains of the chefs workbench. Her body was unpleasantly twisted.
'She's dead! The bastards have killed Sena, and just when I had her almost trained to perfection.' He glared angrily at Phaid. 'Do you realise just how long it takes for me to get a woman to do exactly what I want? Scarlin-Fell is not only going to die, he's going to take a long time doing it.'
Phaid suddenly sat down. A delayed reaction to the last few minutes had hit him hard. A small concerned crowd gathered around Orsine, but Phaid appeared to have been completely forgotten. He could scarcely believe the course that his life was taking. He had only been in the city for three days and it seemed to have turned into a non-stop round of violence punctuated by brisk intervals of sex. If asked, Phaid would have sworn his most solemn oath that, by nature, he was the kind of man who would go out of his way to avoid trouble, and yet for a long time, wherever he went, trouble seemed to surround him. It was as though he was some weird catalyst, a carrier of some mania who, although showing no symptoms himself, infected all those around him.
Orsine was conducted out of the restaurant and a team of androids and boohooms started to clear up the mess. It was only then that someone remembered Phaid, and saw that he got an autocab back to his hotel. Two things were waiting for him on his return. One was an android produced printout reminding him that he only had one more prepaid day left on his account and hinting that he ought to think about either putting up or moving out. This was depressing, particularly as it also served to remind Phaid that he was close to broke and almost completely without prospects. The other surprise package was a note from Roni-Vows suggesting that, should Phaid chose to meet him at the Palace Plaza at noon of the following day, he might learn something to his advantage. It was handwritten on lilac paper and signed with a small delicate drawing of a butterfly.
This didn't do much to cheer Phaid either. All he could hope was that 'learning something to his advantage' was a euphemism for a cash payment. It was this hope that brought him out of the hotel on a blustery morning. The rain had stopped and the sun was trying to break through the cloud. In half an hour he was stepping out of an autocab on the edge of the Plaza just a few minutes before twelve. The Palace Plaza was a broad circular expanse of multicoloured flagstones raised some eight or nine metres above the level of the avenue. One reached the Plaza by climbing the steps that extended around half the perimeter on the side facing away from the Palace. The steps were broken at regular intervals by ornamental waterfalls and fanciful sculptures.
At one time, the centrepiece of the whole Plaza had been a very large and very heroic statue of the previous president. Shortly after his death, Chrystiana-Nex had taken it into her head to have it removed. The removal had been a clumsy affair. A large crowd had gathered while a squad of sweating workmen sawed the deceased off at the ankles and carted him away, presumably to be melted down. After that, though, the work inexplicably stopped and the centrepiece remained, from then on. as a plinth with a pair of large, incongruous feet mounted on it.
The Palace side of the Plaza formed one wall of the deep, dry moat that surrounded the whole building. It was spanned by a wide curving ramp that swept up to the entrance itself. Rumour had it that the ramp was permanently mined so it could be blown in the event of a mob attempting to storm the Presidential residence.
Phaid had never particularly liked the Palace. He found its tiered facade, a jumble of pillars and bas-relief, fussily tasteless. Injury had been added to insult when a large section of what must have been the fourth storey had been, torn out and an enormous holoscreen installed in order for the President to address her devoted followers. For the last year or more, however, the screen had remained ominously blank.
On any normal day, the Plaza could be expected to be thronged with people. Some would stroll, others sit, musicians and jugglers would solicit money from passers-by, hawkers would display a variety of wares and many citizens could be found standing in line with petitions and favours that they sought from members of the court.
Traditionally, the more populist courtiers would set up shop near the Palace ramp where, surrounded by small knots of androids and advisors, they would listen to the complaints of the common people.
This particular day, however, was far from normal. The trouble and unrest that hung in the air had virtually cleared the Plaza. A few civil servants or courtiers hurried on their way to and from the Palace, a few of the incorrigibly curious hung around staring, but it was the police who now completely dominated the open space.
The Palace seemed to be preparing for siege. Police, both in riot armour and the more normal red jump suits, were all over the Plaza. Phaid had rarely seen such a dense concentration of manpower and weaponry. The majority of cops seemed watchful and tense. There was much club flexing and weapon checking. A pair of police flippers were grounded near the base of the ramp. This in itself showed how seriously the authorities were taking the emergency. Previously, the idea of any kind of vehicle on the Plaza was unheard of.
As Phaid
walked towards the ramp looking for Roni-Vows, he noticed that jolt relays had been set up at regular intervals across the open space and continued on, presumably all around the Palace. They weren't activated, but, at the touch of a control, all approaches to the building could be criss-crossed by a web of non-lethal, but very painful fields of energy.
Phaid wondered why Roni-Vows had picked such an exposed and public place for the meeting. The thought crossed his mind that it could be some kind of set-up, but Phaid dismissed it. What could the courtier possibly gain from dropping him into trouble?
As well as the police, squads of the Presidential Guard were also in evidence. Phaid had always found them a little incongruous in their scarlet and gold, their flowing plumes, epaulets and visored helmets. The highly efficient fuse tubes that nestled in their decorative shoulder holsters made it very clear, though, that they were there for something more than merely ceremonial purposes.
They had set up two small photon cannons at the top of the ramp, positioned in such a way that they could rake the entire Plaza if the need arose. More of the guard manned a checkpoint at the base of the ramp. It was equipped with a weapon detector and an android scrutineer. The android would be programmed with the descriptions of wanted criminals and known troublemakers. Phaid decided on principle to give this unit a wide berth.
It was now some minutes after twelve and there was still no sign of Roni-Vows. Phaid gave himself a mild mental kick for not remembering how the courtiers' code decreed that one should be late for every appointment. Neither was it a good day for standing around in the open. The excess of police activity made Phaid less than comfortable, and even the weather left much to be desired. Although the previous day's rain had stopped, there was still a damp blustery wind and a leaden overcast sky. It was the kind of day that would bring few people any good.
After some more waiting, he spotted a figure with Roni-Vows' unmistakable swishing walk coming out of the Palace. Phaid waited until he passed the checkpoint and then moved to meet him.
'How are you doing?'
Roni-Vows scowled.
'Managing to hold my own. You?'
'I'm keeping busy.'
Roni-Vows took Phaid by the arm and steered him across the Plaza. He seemed to be trying to make it look like they were two old friends out for a casual stroll. But in the middle of the display of police it was a trifle incongruous. Phaid glanced questioningly at him.
'Isn't it kind of exposed out here?'
'I didn't think it was a good idea for us to be seen together in a tavern or an eating house. You can't set an electronic eavesdropper in the open.'
'Yeah, but . . . in the middle of all this?'
'The police are on our side. You must remember that.'
'On your side maybe.'
'Just relax. I know what I'm doing.'
'Hmmm.'
They continued the awkward stroll. Phaid still felt intimidated by the police presence.
'Did it ever occur to you that it might be time to call off the cops and start talking?'
Roni-Vows twitched.
'What do you know?'
'Nothing.'
'You haven't heard anything?'
'What should I hear?'
'You seen to know a good deal for someone who just blew into town.'.
Phaid shrugged.
'I'm just observant and I try to keep my smarts about me.'
'It wasn't too smart to fuse a couple of cops.'
Phaid looked quickly around to see if anyone had overheard.
'Will you keep your goddamn voice down? You could get me killed. Where did you hear that, anyway?'
'I'm observant too.'
'More likely you talked to Abrella-Lu.'
'As a matter of fact. I had to get her out of jail. She was playing at prostitutes, but then she started acting so outrageously that one of her clients cried cop.'
'That's our girl.'
'Don't I know it.'
Phaid glanced around. The proximity of so many police was making him profoundly uncomfortable.
'Listen, I don't want to appear rude or gauche and I know that long preambles before you get down to business are compulsory in elegant society, but standing about on this open plaza isn't my favourite occupation. You said you wanted to see me and that it would be to my advantage. I don't see any advantage hanging around here, so could we get to it?'
Roni-Vows raised an eyebrow.
'You're very impatient.'
'Look, if we have to fence around, could we possibly do it someplace else?'
Roni-Vows shook his head.
'I can't possibly stray from the Palace, with things the way they are.'
'Lord's teeth!'
Phaid was starting to get angry. Roni-Vows suddenly looked serious.
'I have a job for you.'
'A job?'
Roni-Vows's fingers fluttered.
'Maybe not so much a job, more a roving commission.'
'Come to the point. What do you want?'
'Information.'
'Information. What information could I have?'
'As you said, you're observant and you keep your smarts about you. In addition you also move fairly freely through a number of levels of the city. Have you had any contact with the rebels?'
'Rebels?'
'The underground, the revolution, these damned rioters, call them what you like.'
Phaid shook his head.
'None at all.'
'Could you?'
Phaid shrugged.
'Anything's possible.'
'Could you if it was made worth your trouble - fiscally?' Roni-Vows rolled the word around his tongue. Phaid regarded him dubiously.
'Is this what you want me to do? Get in with the rebels and spy on them?'
'Nothing as drastic as that. I just want you to move around in the way that you normally do and keep your eyes and ears open. Any little snippet of information you might pick up should be reported to me. Such information would, of course, be paid for in hard cash.'
'That's the offer?'
'In brief.'
Phaid thought about it. It was a little close to being a hired informer, but the mention of hard cash did quite a lot to minimise his distaste.
'What guarantee do you have that I haven't already thrown in with the rebels?'
'You haven't.'
'But I might.'
'The only person you'd throw in with would be yourself. You're a loner, my young friend.'
'You seem very sure of yourself.'
'I am.'
Phaid suddenly smiled.
'Okay, Roni-Vows. You've got a deal, for the moment, although this all sounds exceedingly desperate.'
'I have to admit that our backs are getting uncomfortably close to the wall.'
'You think the rebels are winning?'
'No, but they're shaking up an already perilously fragile structure.'
Phaid nodded and then suddenly laughed.
'I tell you what, I've already got a little titbit that ought to be worth something. There was an assassination attempt on Orsine the mobster last night.'
'At Krager's Eating House.'
Phaid was a little crestfallen.
'You knew already.'
'Since dawn.'
'Did you also know that he blames Scarlin-Fell and is planning to kill him?'
'That's news.'
Phaid smiled.
'I have my uses.'
'Unfortunately Scarlin-Fell was killed by Day Oners in the early hours of this morning. They set fire to his flipper and he was burned to death. By all accounts it was an unpleasant business.'
'They must have beat Orsine to him.'
Phaid didn't believe this. He suspected that the Day Oners were more likely to be Orsine's hirelings in disguise, exacting an efficient, poetic and agonising revenge. He didn't, however, intend to let Roni-Vows know about his theory.
Roni-Vows himself seemed to be getting impatient.
'I
s there anything else?'
'There is one thing.' Phaid hesitated. 'Well . . .'
'What?'
'I could use an advance.'
Phaid didn't like having to ask Roni-Vows for money. Roni-Vows raised his head and deliberately looked down his nose at Phaid.
'You're broke.'
'Close to it.'
'You haven't given me anything valuable as yet.'
'You going to start to haggle?'
'Why not?'
'Because I know you think that I'm valuable to you, and there's always the chance that you and the rest of the court may not be in business much longer. If the rebels don't get you, your president almost certainly will. In any case, I'm no use to you if I don't have the money to move around. You should look on it as an investment.'
Roni-Vows looked as though Phaid was coming uncomfortably close to the truth.
'You could be right at that. How much do you want?'
'A thousand.'
'Don't be ridiculous.'
'You can afford it.'
'Five hundred.'
Phaid sighed grudgingly.
'Five hundred.'
Instantly Roni-Vows produced a flat leather wallet from under his coat.
'Five hundred.'
Phaid's eyes widened in surprise.
'You had it ready?'
'I'm not as dumb as I might appear. I'd have been very disappointed if you had come up with any other figure.'
Phaid was discomfited.
'I asked for a thousand.'
'That was only a preliminary.'
'Yeah, well, I guess you just bought me.'
'Guess I did.'
Phaid silently promised himself that Roni-Vows would in no way get a fair shake for his five hundred. He was stuffing the wallet away in his coat when he noticed that Roni-Vows was staring down Nex Boulevard. He showed signs of apprehension. Phaid turned and looked in the same direction.
