by Jaxon Reed
Dirk dove behind the bus, rolling, placing the bulk of the vehicle between himself and Herb. He scrambled to his feet and ran across the street.
Herb ignored the throbbing pain in his shoulder and the crimson stain blossoming on his jacket. He focused on catching the mark as his steps brought him closer to the rear of the bus. Anger glazed over his face.
This bastard is going down, he thought. Where are Gav and Teddy?
-+-
Seana Xie sped through the air, making the squad car go as fast as possible. She used manual controls to bypass all safety protocols.
Of Asian and Indian descent, she was smaller than her partner. His namesake ancestors hailed from Scotland, but he had never researched his family’s background.
Desmond McNeese maintained a nervous monologue as they raced through the air at breakneck speed.
“Freaking terrorists, man. I mean, why would anyone shoot up a bus? You don’t think it’s gang warfare, do you? They’ve been kinda quiet lately. Maybe it’s just some drunks with guns. Although it’s a little early to be drinking if you ask me. Oh!”
Xie dipped the car to go under a traffic stream, then she pulled up sharp to avoid another line of traffic heading in the opposite direction.
They whooshed past a cargo train, barely missing the long drone flying along at a much more sedate pace.
When they reached a pocket of air relatively free from traffic, McNeese resumed his one-sided conversation.
“Yeah, I think we’re going to be the first on the scene. Again! You know, you do have a talent for showing up wherever trouble raises its ugly head in this city.”
“You show up, too,” Seana said, the first sentence she had contributed since entering the car. Her focus had been almost entirely on getting there quickly.
McNeese said, “Yeah, but . . . you’re flying. For some reason you always seem to be the one flying when the calls come in. Why is that?”
They whizzed past another traffic stream and the holo in their windshield flashed, showing an augmented view of the streets below and the location where the bus was parked. PLAIR guided them directly to that spot.
The squad car whooshed over the last city block and Erstwhile Street came into view.
“There it is,” McNeese said, pointing down at the bus. “And look! There’s somebody with a gun. You made it. Again.”
Xie yanked back on the wheel and brought them to an abrupt stop. Suddenly the squad car floated motionless in the air, lights flashing, the front end aimed down at an angle toward the street.
Xie touched her implant and made a connection with the vehicle’s PA system. Her voice came out of the car amplified.
“You with the gun! Drop it!”
The big man turned to look at the black and white squad car with red and blue lights flashing. He growled, pointed up and shot.
Thoop! Thoopah!
The bolts slammed into the front grill of the police vehicle.
Xie yelled, “PLAIR authorize guns! NOW!”
A beep sounded confirming the authorization and two green circles appeared on the windshield, lining up targets. They wandered for a second then quickly aligned, flashing on the gunman.
Xie squeezed the triggers on the wheel and the car’s big cannons opened up.
Thwup!Thwup!Thwup!Thwup!
Energy bolts slammed into the man, knocking him back. Huge holes ripped into the side of the bus, leaving it smoking.
McNeese looked down at the destroyed vehicle, the outside splattered with blood. At that moment, half a dozen additional squad cars showed up from all directions, sirens wailing and lights flashing.
He smiled at her and said, “Nice shot.”
Below, Dirk joined the crowd on the opposite side of the street, carefully sliding his blaster back inside the lead-lined backpack. He strapped it on and walked, slowly but steadily along the far sidewalk, leaving the scene undetected.
He wore no electronics, and his weapons were all shielded. Carefully, he glanced up. Three police cars floated on this side of the street, but the officers inside were all focused on the scene where the shooting took place.
He held his breath until he crossed the next intersection, leaving the smoking bus and its three dead assassins far behind.
31
Escabedo hovered overhead, watching the street below. He hoped he appeared to be just a curious passerby to the cops. Other vehicles stopped and also floated in the area. The scene, with a smoking bus and all the police vehicles, lent itself naturally to spectators.
He was disappointed but not too surprised to see Dirk exit the bus instead of his goons. At the same time, it reinforced his notions of how to run a contract assassination business. Making others do the dirty work felt particularly brilliant at the moment.
A sense of relief filled him when he saw Herb go for Dirk. It was smart, he thought, to leave one of them behind as backup.
Herb missed in the brief gunfight, then the first cop car arrived on the scene and blew him away.
That was unexpected, Escabedo thought.
Soon after, many more police arrived and he decided it was time to make an exit.
Besides, he did not want to lose track of Dirk.
“How did that SOB get the goods on them?” he wondered out loud.
He slowly moved his car forward, figuring that would be less suspicious than heading straight up. The cops did not even look at him, so intent were they on the scene below.
Escabedo kept a visual on Dirk, wondering how he would track the man should he go inside a building or something.
“Maybe I ought to be on the ground.”
The thought of 100,000 credits kept him following.
Dirk crossed the street at the next intersection and continued walking. At the first bus stop he came to, he paused and waited with the small group gathered there.
“How about that? Still intent on getting on a bus after all that,” Escabedo said.
He continued hovering, comfortable that the man below would not notice him with the rest of the air traffic floating around.
About a quarter hour later, another bus lumbered down the street. It pulled up at the stop and opened its doors, letting a few passengers exit.
Dirk waited in line and climbed aboard, paying the fare and finding a seat inside.
Escabedo used his spyglass again to see where Dirk sat. This time the old arms dealer managed to snag the rearmost seat.
Its doors closed and the bus moved back into the flow of traffic. Escabedo floated above and slightly behind the bus, intent on watching carefully.
Time passed, and the public transit vehicle went through several stops without Dirk exiting. Escabedo checked each time with his spyglass, but his mark remained seated.
At last they approached Octavia’s main bus station. Here everyone would have to get out, Escabedo thought.
Sure enough, Dirk finally exited. He looked around, then followed other passengers inside the large building.
Escabedo rushed down to a parking spot on the building’s roof.
He hopped out of his car and hurried to the door in the middle. An attendant bot hailed him, informing him his vehicle would be charged one credit per hour so long as it remained.
“Fine, charge it.”
He hurried through the door and down the stairs.
On the bottom floor in the isolation of the stairwell, he used the spyglass to look through walls again. This time he sent the projection into his mind’s eye since there was no one else to share the view.
He was worried for a moment he lost Dirk, but he found him sitting in a public area with a clear view of the lockers.
“Alright,” Escabedo said with a sigh. “I’ll have to do this one myself. At least I’ll get to keep the entire fee.”
He felt to make sure his weapon was in place, then he tucked away the spyglass and walked through the stairwell door.
-+-
The bus stop had a few security measures in place, Dirk noted. But the lead-lined backpac
k sufficed to hide his blaster and not set off any alarms.
Rows of seats stretched around the large public area. Here, people could wait for the buses.
A handful of terrestrial buses even made their way to distant cities. Urban planners insisted on maintaining inexpensive means of transportation as a result of fallout from the Welfare Wars.
Dirk sat down at a string of seats facing the lockers. He felt determined to stay and see if Stormy returned.
If she did, he would shoot her. Simple as that. Now it was just a matter of patience. He had no idea if she would even show. But, he was determined to catch her if she did.
His eyes caught a familiar face, that of a former customer, entering from the stairwell.
He put a name to the face: Gianno Escabedo. He figured Escabedo was in the Order of Aristarchus, and fairly successful. The man had always been able to afford Dirk’s more expensive items.
In fact, Dirk thought, Escabedo’s modus operandi involved using heavies to do the hard work. Those three from the bus must have been his employees. Now he was here to finish the job.
Escabedo headed toward the row of terminal chairs, hand in his jacket pocket.
Dirk stood and scanned the surroundings. He noticed a guard bot making the rounds.
It was an older model, with a round head and eyes. But not too old, Dirk thought. And, he decided, it would do the trick.
“Excuse me,” he said, attracting the bot’s attention.
He pointed at Escabedo, still approaching.
“I think that man has a weapon in his pocket. See how he’s holding his hand?”
The bot’s eyes zoomed in on Escabedo. It altered course and headed toward him, metal steps clanking.
Dirk followed right behind, slipping something out of the backpack’s front pocket and palming it.
The bot covered the distance quickly.
In an electronic monotone it said, “Stop. Show me your hands.”
Escabedo froze. He had a blaster in his pocket, but it would take more than a shot or two to down the bot. He had no other weapons. His mark stood smiling at him over the shoulder of the guard bot.
Dirk came around, making sure not to block the bot’s view.
“Mr. Escabedo? How are you? Fancy meeting you here. Small world.”
He extended his hand, and Escabedo took it while staring at the guard bot’s red eyes. It was a natural reflex, accepting the handshake.
A zap of high voltage ran up his arm, stopping his heart.
Escabedo went down to his knees, cognizant now of the small disc in Dirk’s hand.
Dirk bent, still holding his hand.
“Mr. Escabedo? Are you alright?”
He delivered another jolt, and Escabedo went down, planting his face on the floor.
Dirk let go and looked up at the bot.
He said, “This man has suffered a heart attack! Call an ambulance. But, search him for weapons first.”
Dirk moved out of the way as the bot approached Escabedo’s prone body.
32
Dirk had no more tricks. His limited supply of gadgets was used up. The heart attack inducing palm zapper was only good for a couple of hits. He would have to kill Stormy a far more typical way. With a gun.
Staying out of the guard bot’s optical range became his biggest worry going forward. The automaton had the entire confrontation recorded, of course. It recorded everything. An ambulance showed up to answer its 911 call, along with human police officers.
They reviewed video of the encounter and looked visibly confused. The victim, they murmured amongst themselves, appeared to go down just as his hand was shaken. Was it murder?
They wanted to talk to the man in the recording. PLAIR had a hard time identifying him, though. Iris scans came back blank and there was nothing in the facial database, either.
The victim indeed had a gun on his person, in the jacket pocket. That intrigued the cops even more. Had the John Doe who alerted the guard bot really known about it beforehand?
Ultimately they instructed the droid to keep an eye out for the light-haired man and detain him for further questioning.
The bot acknowledged these instructions and resumed its patrol of the bus terminal as the cops left with the body in an ambulance.
Fortunately, since this was an older model, it was not outfitted with extensive sensors. Dirk simply kept moving, staying out of its ocular range.
The bot never saw him, but Dirk thought it was a pain to always be moving around the terminal. There were times when the lockers were not in sight, and that felt disconcerting.
But he maintained vigilance, pausing to buy a sandwich and a drink from one of the building’s food vendors.
Now he followed the bot from behind instead of striving to stay ahead of it, in its constant circuit of the building’s interior.
Thank goodness there’s only one of them, he thought.
He sighed, and leaned against a thick marble column, watching the bot, then glancing over to the lockers.
She may never show up, he thought. This is a long shot, after all. I don’t even know that she rented a locker here. I don’t even know—
He gasped in sudden pain as a blade slid through his back and cut into his heart.
It jerked up, cutting more tissue.
He cried out but it was gargled, the noise quickly lost in the palatial vastness of the terminal.
He fell down to the floor, grabbing at the wound in his back. His heart had trouble beating. The pain felt unbearable.
He looked up to see his blood collected on something, a thin smear of red floating in the air.
It lowered to his shirt and wiped itself off.
The personal camo unit, he thought. She got it.
She must have . . . stolen it . . .
That was his last thought as he passed out from lack of blood.
-+-
Despite her wishes, McDaniel came home for a quick lunch. Stormy felt annoyed, and hoped this would not become a habit.
But she bit her tongue. She still needed the younger man to serve her purpose, and it would not do to hurt his feelings just yet.
After a quick meal and some together time, he was ready to rush back.
Sensing an opportunity, Stormy rode with him to work, claiming she had some errands to run and she could just use the same autocab.
The benefit of hitching a ride this way included the fact it was charged to his account, a rare chance at relatively anonymous travel for her.
They cuddled and kissed on the way to his office, but she reminded him when he grew too handsy that everything was closely monitored in autocabs and they should go no further than that.
At his stop he reluctantly left, pausing to kiss her long and hard before trotting through the doors of his building.
She ordered the vehicle to take her to the main bus station. She wanted to retrieve her equipment and this would be an excellent opportunity.
It settled on the roof and she paid extra to have the car wait for her. She climbed out and went down the stairs.
Walking out into the large lobby, she did a double take.
Dirk was there. He stood, at the moment, apparently keeping some distance behind a guard bot slowly making the rounds through the station. But his attention remained focused on the locker area. He kept glancing back, keeping an eye there.
She thought, how did he know? How did he guess she would show up here?
Stormy considered the issue, trying to remember if she said anything around him about the bus station.
No, she decided. He made a guess. It was a good guess, too. If she were going to hide equipment, it would be in a locker here. He was using sound reasoning to try and find her.
Her lips quirked. She was impressed.
But he goofed. Had he been watching the stairs, he might have seen her first.
She turned and found the restroom, going inside before he walked by.
In a stall she activated the camo unit and became invisi
ble.
Then she waited by the door for the next person to come in. When it swished open, she dodged around the woman and made her way out into the lobby, being sure to avoid bumping into other people walking around.
She quickly located Dirk again. He had moved and was now standing next to one of the large marble columns reaching up to the high ceiling above.
Carefully, she crossed the floor and pulled out a dagger.
The blade was razor sharp, designed especially for stabbing. It was long enough to do considerable damage.
She smiled, though no one could see her. Dirk had sold her this blade himself. How ironic, she thought.
Stormy closed in, picked her spot and slid the blade between his ribs.
He looked surprise, and fortunately did not make too much noise.
After wiping it off, she pocketed the blade and headed back for the bathroom.
Again she waited for someone to open the door. It was the same woman, coming out this time. Stormy returned to her stall and deactivated the camo unit.
When she came out again, she was visible. She walked over to the lockers. For anyone scanning security cameras, it would appear she was inside the restroom when Dirk was stabbed.
Someone noticed him bleeding out on the floor and called the guard bot over. It placed another call to 911 while Stormy retrieved her heavy weapons.
Then she went to the smaller locker and grabbed her 50,000 in credit tokens, too. The Order would not be collecting on her contract.
If you want something done right you’ve got to do it yourself, she thought.
She headed back to the stairs and up to the rooftop parking lot. As she climbed back into the waiting autocab, an ambulance floated down followed by a squad car.
First responders rushed inside as her cab lifted off the roof and headed back to Jock McDaniel’s apartment building.
Stormy reached into the larger bag with the heavy weapons and pulled out a slip of old fashioned paper. She reviewed the information someone had written down long ago, and nodded.
The time is drawing near, she thought.
