by Mel Odom
“Can’t help you.” Aggie gathered up her purse, something Skater knew she’d never take out on the stage.
“Maybe she’s in trouble.”
“And maybe she’s not. Did you think about that?” Aggie challenged. “Maybe she sold your fragging ass down the river for a credstick so she could get you out of her system. Just so you’d be gone.”
“I need to know how it was. For a lot of reasons. If I’d known about the baby, maybe things could have been different. But I didn’t.”
“Oh, hell, Jack, who knows if it was even your baby? There were other guys before you, maybe even during you. There can’t help but be in this line of work. Frag it, they’re in your face all the drekking time.”
“It’s not about the baby.” Skater replied softly. “Not all of it. I didn’t leave Larisa. She left me. No warning, and no reason why. She stayed in touch occasionally, even put me onto this piece of action tonight. I want to know why.”
“What if she did?” Aggie demanded. The room’s dim lights made her pinched features more severe. “Are you going to hurt her?”
“No.” Skater knew it was the truth as soon as he spoke out loud. “When I know, one way or the other, I’ll chill it and move on. Revenge is no piece of biz to buy into, unless it’s not your own emotions burning you up. It’s for my own piece of mind.” He hesitated just a beat. “Like I told you, Larisa could be in danger, too.”
For just a moment, indecision warred in Aggie’s eyes. Then she shrugged, apparently making up her mind. “I’ll call her. She can decide.”
It wasn’t what Skater wanted, and he searched for more words to offer.
Aggie read more into his reluctance to move. “Unless you’re going to try to stop me.” He fingers had drifted into her purse.
“No.” Skater said, stepping aside. If Larisa ran from her doss, or didn’t want to see him, that was an answer as well.
“Public telecoms are outside.”
Skater opened the door and followed Aggie out. She walked down to the end of the hall where there were a couple of telecom cubes.
The music had changed to thunder out in the main lobby. It took Skater a few moments to recognize it as a popular biker thrash tune the Seattle Timber Wolves used as their theme song in combat matches.
Aggie tapped in a number on the keypad, then the two of them stood waiting for the face of Larisa Hartsinger to appear on the visual pickup. “That’s strange.” Aggie pushed the Disconnect key. “No answer. No message. Nothing.”
But Skater’s attention was already elsewhere, drawn by movement he caught out the corner of his eye. He’d sensed the two men stalking him even before he spotted them down at the other end of the hall. For a moment he wondered if they’d somehow recognized him.
Something told him the men were neither yakuza nor Lone Star or any other kind of blue crew. But his senses stuttered over the hard edge they broadcasted with their presence.
“Friends?” Aggie asked.
“No," Skater answered.
She crossed her arms over her breasts and kept her eyes on Skater, but he knew she was checking out the two figures down at the end of the hall. They were clearly visible as an elf and a troll. “Damn you, Jack Skater. This was a good place to work.”
“Still could be.” Skater didn’t offer any misguided hope. He still didn’t know how deep a hole he was in.
“I think I recognize one of those guys.” Aggie said. “That elf come up from the Barrens with Tone. If Larisa is with Tone in this thing, she’s in way over her head. She’d never stand for someone flatlining you. Especially here.”
Skater dropped his right hand into his duster pocket and gripped the Predator. His nerves were taut as piano strings and stretched thin as monowire, and he knew one wrong move would bust out the sturm and drang waiting between them. He used the reflection trapped in the dark Plexiglas over the bulletin board at the back of the hallway to keep watch over the two men. Neither of them appeared interested in closing in at the moment.
“Find her.” Aggie said. “And get her out of this drek—if you can.” She gave him the address.
He repeated it after her to be sure he got it right. The number was in the wealthy Bellevue District. If Larisa was living there these days, she’d certainly made her way up in the world.
Gently, Aggie touched his face. “And get yourself the hell out of there if you find out she’s in too deep. I always hoped you were different than the other guys I’ve been with.”
Before Skater could even say thanks, she was gone, turning into a swivel-hipped simsense wet dream on her way to the stage. Lust-filled applause and catcalls greeted her arrival.
He took advantage of the momentary confusion created by the music and the loud noises of the crowd to move quickly toward the club’s rear exit. He didn’t have to turn and look to know the two men were coming after him, closing in rapidly.
6
The instant he made the alley behind SybreSpace, Skater launched himself into a full run. High and narrow, the alley was a concrete chasm that twisted and ran without interruption to Cherry Street. A trio of Cutters jerked around at his approach, bringing weapons into view from under their leathers. The well-dressed woman with the gangers quickly ducked into the shadows. Moonlight danced off her earrings and amulets and sygils of protection.
“Personal problem.” Skater yelled as he stayed to his side of the alley.
The three gangers huddled around the woman, protecting her.
He pounded past them, knees driving hard as his breath rasped in his lungs. A dumpster loomed before him, turned sideways. Gathering his strength and kicking in his boosted reflexes, he vaulted two meters up to the top of the metal containers, scanned the open ground before him, and leaped just as a blue-white laser beam cut through the air where he’d just been.
He hit the ground running, cutting back toward the building on his right. His shoulder slammed painfully into the brick wall, staggering him. Before he could make the corner, two more laser blasts sliced holes through the dumpster behind him.
One of the blasts faded out of existence just before it touched the plate glass window of a small restaurant across the street, at the end of its range. The other sheared through the rear tire of a green Volkswagen Elektro. Out of control, the little three-wheeler slammed into a light pole and sent a shower of yellow electrical sparks cascading down. A screamsheet vending machine sandwiched between the pole and the Elektro spilled out its load of chips while the sec-alarm emitted a high-pitched squeal in protest.
Skater figured the two guys tailing him were wetworkers, professional assassins whose one and only mission in life was to bring him back iced to whoever owned them. He turned the corner and ran west along Cherry Street, the canopies over the sidewalk deepening the shadows.
The three a.m. traffic slowed to a near halt around the crash site. He knew some of the drivers were probably calling in the accident right now, and the blue crews would soon descend over the area.
When the two shadows darted out of the alley, he pushed away from the side of the building and cut across the lines of traffic. Trying to get around the gawkers, a Gaz-Willys Nomad pickup started to pull around the Americar in front of it, but the driver was almost on top of Skater before he noticed him.
Skater put out an arm without breaking stride and caught the Nomad’s nose on his forearm. The driver applied the brakes and rubber shrilled. Rolling with the impact as much as he could, Skater slid across the vehicle’s broad windshield and dropped to the street on the other side. He was close enough to feel the heat of the laser blast that hammered into the Nomad’s cab.
The driver let out a string of curses above the din of frying metal and glass.
Wheeling and bringing up the Predator, Skater saw the driver leap from the wreckage of his vehicle as flames consumed it. His two pursuers knifed through the tangle of vehicles, dodging the ones that still moved as they sought their prey.
Switching to low-light vision, Skater sc
anned the two faces again, burning them into his memory and making sure that he’d never seen either one before. To Skater’s right, the troll pulled himself up onto the cab of an Ares Roadmaster to take the high ground.
Focusing on the man’s chest, Skater squeezed the Predator’s trigger three times, ignoring the twisting gray smoke from the fiery Nomad that burned his nasal passages. The pistol jumped in his hands.
Caught full in the chest, the troll went backward off the truck. Realizing he was in the center of a bad situation, the Roadmaster’s driver engaged the gears and pulled forward, ramming past a smaller car in front of him. In the cargo truck’s wake, the troll got to his feet and unleashed another laser blast.
The blue-white beam slashed into the building behind Skater and set the festive canopy on fire.
Skater abandoned his position and ran for the alley behind him. Flaming bits of the canopy swirled around him and dropped to the pavement. Other drivers were bailing out of their cars now, many of them clutching weapons. Skater knew their anger would be directed at him as well as at the two men following him. If they felt frustrated enough at being trapped in their cars, the drivers would join the fight as well.
Perspiration coated him in a thin sheen, partly from the heat and partly from the exertion. He slapped burning debris from his duster, then took the corner and darted into the alley. He and Larisa had to walk a number of places that were only a short distance from the club. He knew the area, and he figured that gave him an edge over his pursuers.
Halfway down the alley, not more than three meters from ground level, a ring of advertising space jutted out from a closed simtheatre. Once, the meter-high advertising bands had pulsed clips from the latest releases. Now they were dark and dormant, burnt from years without maintenance and abuse by neon graffiti artists who’d left pornographic images charred into the reflective surface.
Measuring his pace. Skater shoved the Predator into the waistband of his pants and leaped upward behind the advert surface. He caught one of the support poles and pulled himself up into hiding, perched uncomfortably across three of the struts.
The alley continued on, butting into James Street. Across that was a wooded park area, mimicking Kobe Terrace Park on the other side of Yesler Way. With luck, Skater figured his pursuers would think he’d gone that way.
The pair came, running and working in tandem perfection. As each moved forward and took up a new position, the other kept a clear field of fire. Seeing the alley apparently deserted, the troll ran to the other end and peered out over James Street.
“No way.” the elf called out. “He’s not that fragging fast. The fragger’s around here somewhere.”
“We’re pushing the clock, Dion.” the troll grumbled, coming forward.
“You want to tell that to the big man later?” Dion asked.
Evidently his companion didn’t because he decided to start searching. He was big and bulky even for a troll, no doubt chromed to the max. He carried the weighty laser pistol with no discernible effort.
“There’s a door over here, Shayx.” Dion drifted into place alongside it almost below Skater, his laser pistol lifted and ready. Like most elves, he was tall, with the exaggerated slenderness of that race. His dress was fashionable and expensive, a sharp contrast to his partner’s street slouch.
Shayx put out a hand and tested the heavy wooden door. “Locked. But I can take it down.”
Dion hesitated, scanning the alley. “You think he could have secured the damn door after him?”
“Maybe.”
“I don’t like it.”
A snarl of mirth framed the troll’s lips. “You want to call the big man and tell him that?”
“No.” The reply was thoughtful, with no reaction to the taunt. “Take it down. He acted like he knew where he was headed. Maybe he had a key.”
Shayx drew back a massive foot, then smashed it into the door, sundering it from its hinges with a series of snaps and metallic screeches.
“Go on.” Dion said, pointing his pistol inside. “I’ve got you covered.”
Shayx moved lithely into the room, following his weapon. “Nada, chummer. Room’s full of dust. I spend any time in here, I’m gonna hack up a hairball the size of a Trailblazer truck.”
The elf lowered his guard as he scanned the alley again. Eventually, his gaze wandered up in Skater’s direction. His almond eyes widened in surprise and he tried to bring his weapon to bear.
Too late. Skater had already released his hold and dropped, hitting the elf as his weight knocked them both to the ground. Pushing himself up on one elbow, he extended the Predator before him, targeting the approaching Shayx bellowing a challenge. Skater snapped off six rounds and reduced the troll’s head to a confused hunk of blood, bone, and ripped flesh. He didn’t think anything less would have stopped the attack.
The augmentation kept the dead gillette on his feet for a few more staggered steps while Skater thrust the Predator’s muzzle under the elf’s chin. The elf froze at the touch of the heated metal. Reluctantly, Shayx’s corpse dropped to its knees, then fell forward on what was left of his face.
Anger blazed in the elf’s eyes, then his gaze flicked briefly toward the butt of the laser pistol only centimeters out of his reach.
“I really wouldn’t advise that.” Skater said. “I’ve had a long, hard night, and I won’t hesitate a tick to shoot you. Roll over on your face. Slowly.”
Dion did as he was ordered.
Skater kept watch over the alley exit to Cherry Street. He expected Lone Star to arrive any second now. But first he wanted to find out for sure if the elf and the samurai were working solo. He levered one of the elf’s arms up behind his back, making it impossible for him to move well unless he was double-jointed. Skater didn’t rule that out. The Predator lingered against the elf’s skull.
“Who’re you working for?” Skater demanded.
“Ask my friend.” Dion suggested.
“Your friend’s kind of dead right now.”
“Well, he was always the talker.”
Skater pressed the Predator a little harder against the base of Dion’s skull. “Maybe it’s time you start learning.”
“Or else?”
“You and Shayx get a chance to pair up again in the next world.”
The elf laughed delicately, not moving too much. “I appear to have an advantage over you. See, I know quite a lot about you. I know you’re the kind of guy who'd rather cut a deal than use a gun.”
“I’m not exactly adverse to using a gun.” Skater pointed out. “You can check with your friend on that.”
“True. But I'm just as dead if I talk. That, I can guarantee you, is a fact. And I really don’t think you’ll shoot a man who’s so obviously at your mercy.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Skater nudged him again with the pistol barrel.
“Chummer," the elf said with a wry grin as he looked back at Skater, “will my face be red.”
Still holding the Predator against the elf’s skull, Skater searched his prisoner with his free hand.
“No credstick. I’m afraid. Never carry while I’m on assignment. You’ll leave me knowing nothing about me.”
“I know about Synclair Tone.”
“Oh? Just what do you think you know?”
“Enough to start looking for him.” Skater promised.
“If I should meet him, I’ll be sure and tell him that.” Ignoring the jibe, Skater found the power-down button on the elf’s Ares laser pistol harness and faded the present charge. It would take the soft-pack batteries a few minutes to power the unit back up. He planned on being gone by then. He did the same for the dead troll’s.
“Do yourself a favor,” Skater said, “and stay out of my way. I see you again, I’ll figure a gun’s the only way to set things straight between us.”
The elf nodded. “I don’t make the same mistake twice.”
“Stay there.” Skater pushed himself up and moved away, keeping the Predator trained on
the elf. “Until you can’t see me anymore.” He kept backing away, noticing the hot white strobe lights of a Lone Star Northrop PRC-44B Yellowjacket helo descending on Cherry Street.
Holstering his weapon he moved at a fast walk and flagged down a cab. No one was following him.
* * *
Larisa’s Bellevue address was a high-rise in Beaux Arts, just across a short expanse of Lake Washington from Council Island. The building was forty stories high, well landscaped and probably just as well protected by private security.
“This the place, bub?” the troll cabby asked, shifting a toothpick the size of a pencil around in his slash of a mouth. He wore a faded and stained plaid beret with a candy-striped pink button announcing I BRAKE FOR BLONDES.
“Yeah.” Skater shoved his credstick into the pay slot and added a modest tip. The wind whipping in from the lake was cool and wet as he got out and stood for a moment looking up at the building. Skater took a deep breath and tried to shake off the fatigue he felt creeping up on him.
“You want to be careful in this neighborhood.” the cabby advised. “Knight Errant does the general upkeep on security.”
“Thanks. I will.” Skater didn’t bother to correct the cabby’s assumption that he was here for some illicit reason.
The cabby touched his hat and pulled into the light traffic, within moments vanishing into the stream of ruby lights warring against moonlight and shadow.
Skater turned his duster collar up against the wind, then walked across the street and up to the door of what an elegant sign proclaimed as the Montgomery Building. The foyer was well-lit, glass on stainless steel, all buffed to perfection. The double doors were secured by cardkey locks, and were recessed enough that Skater figured a cage would form around anyone who tried to scam them.
Every nerve in him screamed to run as he ascended the seven short steps toward the front of the building. But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t leave Larisa in danger, no matter what had gone down between them.
He arrived at the door as an older couple also came up, and made a show out of retrieving his card from his wallet. They offered him the door and he took it, thanking them.
