Run Hard, Die Fast

by Mel Odom

  A rental car with a misfiring engine stuttered to a stop in front of the tavern. The driver stayed put, fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel.

  Watching the man, Argent knew it was the Johnson. He alerted Beedle and Telma, then waited.

  Somewhat reluctantly, the Johnson pushed himself out of the car. Slim and twenty-something, the man looked like he'd traveled far and hard. He wore a brown turtle-neck and synthdenim jeans that had seen better days, covered by a mid-thigh khaki jacket. Stubble covered his chiseled lower face under the long chestnut hair that trailed down to his shoulders. Blue lensed Whitelaw sunglasses walled his gaze off from scrutiny.

  The way the man moved surprised Argent. It was a gliding stride that the big warrior had seen in a number of martial arts masters, but never in one so young. He entered through the door without hesitation once he got underway.

  "Beedle?" Argent asked quietly over the commlink.

  "Don't know." the street mage answered. "I'm getting some fragged up readings when I assense him. But he's flesh and blood."

  "Is he augmented?"

  "No. Flesh and blood through and through."

  As the Johnson closed on him, Argent felt a tightness in his chest. The nape of his neck prickled in silent warning.

  "He moves too cleanly for someone not razored." Telma said. "He's been trained, but I don't recognize the style. From the cut of his jacket, he's carrying a pistol at the back of his belt."

  Argent had already picked up the weapon. "Peg?"

  "I can't get a scan on him." she answered. "The vid acts like it's on the blink when I try to scan an image and save it. I can't check if there's a legitimate ID out on him."

  Turning slowly, Argent faced the approaching man.

  The man stopped more than an arm's length away, then scanned the tavern. "Jesus, what a dive."

  Argent didn't comment, waiting.

  "You're Argent." the man said. "The lady who contacted me said you'd have a password." His face remained cool and dispassionate under the blue lenses of the Whitelaws.

  "Not without prompting, Mr. Johnson." Argent replied. "You've had more contact with her than I have."

  "Mr. Johnson?" A smile that could have been called cruel twisted his lips. "Call me Chandler."

  Argent spread his hands. "Buy you a drink?"

  Chandler waved a hand around the tavern, taking in the clientele. "You and me, we're set up as a regular sideshow here. We're so wiz we could sell tickets."

  "There was a purpose for that."

  "Figured that. Should have turned the job down flat, but I'll admit it got my curiosity up. There's not many things that'll do that these days." Chandler pulled a chair out and sat across the table from Argent. "She said you had a name in common."

  Argent answered without hesitation. "Iron Albatross." The name was a reference to the CAS/GD Battle Tank they'd used during an exfiltration during the Desert Wars. It was the first time they'd met, the first time they'd nearly lost their lives together. The heavy cav unit had earned its name during the operation.

  "That's the name." Chandler agreed. "Let's get down to biz."

  17

  "Have you got a team in there?"

  Miles Lanier glanced op from his office console as Richard Villiers strode into the room. Villiers had changed clothes, but Lanier doubted that his friend had slept.

  "Insertion's taking place now." Lanier said.

  "How are you handling it?"

  Tapping the keyboard, Lanier booted the image he was viewing on the flat screen into the holo projector built into the right side of his desk. The image took on three dimensions, forming the buildings of downtown El Infierno in miniature landscape.

  "L.A.?" Villiers asked in surprise, reading the data-string hanging in the air under the holo. He sat in one of the plush chairs in front of the desk.

  Lanier took pride in his office primarily because it put the world at his fingertips. As long as a spy drone was in position like the one out in El Infierno, or other measures had been taken, he could almost be there.

  "El Infierno." Lanier corrected, taking a laser pointer from his desk drawer.

  "Do you know who the contact is yet?"

  Lanier nodded. "We've got the go-between." He used the keyboard to shift the downtown scene to an image of a young man with long chestnut hair. "His name's Vincent Chandler. He's licensed as a private investigator in CalFree. Chandler's also an oddity."

  "How so?"

  "For starters, he's supposed to be forty-seven years old. That holo doesn't show it. And a joker we ran the information down with said there's been this rumor that Chandler once took on a case for Lofwyr."

  "Can this man be bought?"

  "Not from what I understand. When Chandler takes on a case, he sticks with it. Before I interfered, I thought it might be better to know who he was meeting." Lanier switched the holos again, going back to the street scene of El Infierno. He flicked the laser pointer on and placed a purple dot over the tallest building among those shown. "We've got two of our best armed surveillance drones on-site and in the air.

  Commlinks are being managed through one of the geosynchronous satellites we have over Seattle. L. A. is well within its broadcast range."

  "Have you identified whomever Chandler is meeting?"

  "No." Lanier moved the laser pointer to indicate a building to the right of Lookers. "We also followed Nakatomi's people into the area."

  "Nakatomi. Not Ironaxe?"

  Lanier nodded.

  Villiers stroked his jawline thoughtfully. "Nakatomi must have convinced Ironaxe to let him handle things in CalFree."

  "Nakatomi does have a number of people in the area." Lanier commented. "He'd stand a better chance of getting one of his teams in close quickly."

  "Evidently he talked Ironaxe into that as well. It doesn't surprise me, though. Ironaxe is going to see how far he can trust Nakatomi. He wants to make a deal with one of us. If he can keep his defenses up.

  Where's your team?"

  "Setting up a commlink relay station in this building." Lanier flashed the pointer on the building. His attention was drawn to the monitor. The surveillance team across the street had set up on Lookers. Their cams came on-line, filling the screen with three different views of the tavern. "We've got the contact in El Infierno. There's Chandler." He flicked the laser pointer on the private eye.

  Chandler sat at a table across from a man.

  Villiers tapped the keyboard and sharpened the image, bringing both men into focus. "You say Nakatomi has fielded a team into the area?"

  Lanier nodded. "They're there now." He used the laser pointer, putting four purple dots on men along the perimeter of the tavern on one of the other views provided. As he watched, a white Federated-Boeing Commuter 2050 tilt-wing plane appeared on the holo. Equipped with vertical take-off and landing capabilities, the Commuter locked into position above the street, and dropped altitude.

  "Do you recognize the man with Chandler?" Villiers asked.

  "Argent." Lanier said. "He's a guy you tend not to forget."

  "Surprising that Sencio would reach out to him." Villiers commented.

  "She didn't have a lot of choices." Lanier pointed out. "She knew we'd already hung her out to dry."

  A cargo door on the Commuter opened, revealing men in red riot armor. They threw lines out the door, then stepped over the side and slid down the street.

  "Does Chandler have a mobile telecom listing?" Villiers asked.

  Lanier nodded.

  "You've got the LTG?"

  "Of course."

  Villiers's eyes glittered as he watched the Nakatomi sec force drop into the street. "Call him. Tell him you'll give him a million nuyen for whatever he's about to turn over to Argent."

  "I don't think he will." Lanier said.

  "It would be more to our benefit if he didn't." Villiers stated. "Be sure he knows who made the offer."

  "And if he tells Argent?" Lanier asked.

  "I want Argent
to know I'm involved." Villiers said. "He worked for me once, remember? Maybe with enough pressure, it can happen again."

  Lanier glanced at the holo, watching the action unfold. He reached for the telecom headset built into the desk. The unit was heavily encrypted so the signal couldn't be easily accessed. "You're assuming Argent's going to live through that drekstorm descending on him."

  "I'd put money on it." Villiers said. "Argent's not a man who's easy to flatline."

  18

  Clay Ironaxe watched Nakatomi's sec force deploy from the Commuter 2050 in El Infierno. Tense, he stood in his VaulTek office in Albuquerque in front of the holo-display, unable to sit. The furniture reflected his cultural heritage, big and blocky, made of timbers hewn from land that he owned, that his father and his father's father had owned before him. Designs made of colored sand were etched into each piece, telling histories and mythologies of his people.

  More sand paintings covered the walls, along with ceremonial weapons warriors in his tribe had carried into a dozen different battles over the generations. Ceramic pots and kachina dolls filled niches, and a totem to his chosen deity, Wolf, stood in one corner. The four faces on the totem were all incarnations of Wolf, brilliantly painted. Mixed in with the cultural artwork, Ironaxe had also added some original paintings of the Southwest by Georgia O'Keefe.

  "We have identified the man the courier was meeting with." Nakatomi announced.

  "Who is he?" Ironaxe asked.

  Another bubble opened on the holo, showing an oval view of the interior of the tavern. Two men sat at a table. Ironaxe recognized one of them as the CalFree private investigator Nakatomi's people had originally identified and his own sec staff had verified.

  "His name is Argent." Nakatomi said. "At least, that's the only name my people have been able to find for him. He's a shadowrunner."

  Ironaxe looked at Bearstalker, who immediately relayed the name by intercom.

  "By all accounts." Nakatomi said, "Argent is a very dangerous man. I'm not sure if we can take him alive."

  "I'd prefer it." Ironaxe said without inflection. "I want the woman's location, and I want to make certain who employed her."

  Nakatomi hesitated, frowning slightly. "My teams will do what they can." He broke the connection.

  Ironaxe waited, feeling the tension build. So many things were out of his hands.

  19

  Chandler folded the portable telecom and dropped it into a jacket pocket. "Now that." he said, "was interesting." He smiled, honestly amused.

  Argent waited, not asking the obvious question.

  "Andi Sencio offered me ten thousand nuyen to deliver this package of hers." Chandler said. "An amount she said you'd be willing to pay."

  "I am." Argent replied.

  "I took her job on faith, not knowing if I was even going to be able to cover my fuel cost on this one, let alone turn a profit." Chandler tapped the pocket that contained the portable telecom. "Now I'm offered a million nuyen for it."

  "If he tries." Telma promised, "he won't make it out the door."

  Argent had Telma in his view over Chandler's shoulder. "So how are you going to play it out?"

  "I hired on at a price." Chandler said. "I stay hired. You heard me tell him I'd think about it."

  "Yeah."

  Chandler relaxed on the other side of the table, spreading his arms out to claim the booth completely.

  "That was to buy you time, not me. The joker told me he was Miles Lanier, making the offer on behalf of Richard Villiers. I'm guessing that was more of a message for you than for me."

  "You're guessing right." Argent replied.

  "So how do you want to handle it?"

  "Keep thinking about it." Argent took his credstick from inside his jacket. "You and I have some unfinished biz."

  "The chip, you mean?" Chandler gave him a blank blue-lensed stare. "The message I got from Sencio was recorded. It hit my telecom service and stayed there. I didn't have an opportunity to talk to her. But she sounded like she was in deep drek. And if names like Lanier and Villiers are going to be tossed around so casually, I have reason to believe she is in deep drek."

  Argent waited getting a feel for the man's motivations. "You want to know what my intentions are."

  "Sounds kind of archaic when you put it that way, but yeah."

  "That's none of your biz."

  Chandler shrugged expansively and grinned coldly. "Call me old-fashioned."

  "Give me a green light." Beedle said over the comm-link, "and he goes to sleep before he knows what hit him."

  "What if you don't like the answer I give you?" Argent asked.

  "Then I breeze." Chandler replied, "and see if I can get the lady some help elsewhere. You come across as a real hard guy. You might not be concerned enough about how she's going to turn out after all this."

  "Do you know where she's at?" Argent asked.

  Chandler shook his head. "The download was encrypted, but I know people who've got resources that are on the cutting edge of wiz. I've got a few favors I can call in. It might take some time, but I'd get it broken."

  "She might be dead by then."

  "She might be dead if I give you the information."

  Argent closed his hand over the credstick. Chandler didn't even glance at it. Money wasn't his motivation.

  "He's for real." Peg said inside Argent's skull. "I ran his file. CalFree Lone Star and the Better Corp Bureau have data on him. He plays fast and loose with the rules, and has come close to losing his license, but he has a reputation for sticking by his clients."

  "The message was for me." Argent said.

  "Yeah, and I keep wondering about that. If the message was for you, why not send it to you?"

  "Because it wasn't safe to. It might have been intercepted."

  "Yet she sent you a message to have you meet me here."

  "The source she used to get to me wasn't one she'd want to trust."

  "But you did." Chandler pointed out.

  "No. She knew I wouldn't ignore the message. There was a possibility that it wouldn't have been passed on. What would you have done if I hadn't been here today?"

  "Looked you up."

  "It would have been harder than you think. And by then, it might have been too late."

  Chandler decided to try another tack. "What's your relationship with the lady?"

  Argent got the impression that the eyes behind the blue lenses never ceased in their effort to size him up.

  "We were friends."

  "Were?"

  "We went our separate ways years ago."

  "But she put out the call for you."

  "All of which indicates to me." Argent said, "that she can't trust anyone around her now. That's more reason for me to move quickly on whatever info you have."

  Chandler leaned forward again, and this time he had a datachip folded in one hand. "For the moment." he said in a calm, measured tone, "I want you to hang onto your ten thousand nuyen. When this situation resolves itself, I want to hear from the lady. You can send me my fee then."

  "If this thing gets totally fragged up." Argent said, "this could be your only chance to collect your fee."

  Chandler's smile was mirthless. "Then somebody else will owe it to me. I'll make sure I collect. I don't like leaving unfinished biz."

  Moved by the man's commitment to his work and to his view of himself, Argent offered his hand.

  "Another time, maybe."

  "Turns out you ever need an investigator, Argent, I'm listed." Chandler took the hand and squeezed with surprising strength. "Maybe I can toss some work your way, now that I've got a feel for the biz you're in."

  "I'll leave you a number where you can reach me."

  The investigator handed the datachip across, safely sealed in a gel Pro-Tek pouch.

  As Argent took the datachip, Peg's voice blared inside his head. >Get out of there! A sec force in a Commuter just pulled into the airspace above the building!<

  Wheeling around, Argent s
potted the first of the shock troops descending rappelling lines that undoubtedly came from the VTOL craft hanging above the streets. He slid the sleeve back on his left arm, then flipped open a storage compartment built into the cybernetic limb where the disk would be protected. He pushed himself out of the booth, unlimbering the Ingram Super Mach 100s. The smartlinks zapped into his nervous system, putting dual cross hairs in his vision, one blue and the other red.

  A hail of bullets shattered the big window overlooking the street. A handful of them smashed to painful stops against the body armor worked into Argent's suit. Beside him, Chandler went down, literally blown apart by the heavy-caliber rounds.

  20

  Argent leveled both Ingram Super Machs before him, taking cover behind the wall to one side of the window. The vicious little machine pistols balanced in his metal hands, and the recoil was negligible as he squeezed off controlled bursts through the shattered plastiglass of the tavern. The smartlink connections kept him on target.

  The first wave of blackclad shocktroops ignored the autofire. Then a handful of them went down, bloody holes ripped through their armor. Two explosions jarred the surrounding area, brief flashes of light illuminating the night.

  Expecting company of the worst sort if the meet got slotted, Argent had selected his ammunition with mass destruction in mind. Instead of hardball rounds, he'd loaded the Machs with EX Ammo explosive armor-piercing rounds.

  The survivors went to cover, ducking behind parked and abandoned cars.

  Argent used more deliberate aim and took out another of the attackers. "Do you have any idea who they belong to?" he asked Peg over the commlink. He wheeled behind the window frame and ejected the spent clips from the Ingrams. Tucking one after the other under his arm after reloading, he had both weapons fully recharged in less than three seconds.

  "I'm running the Commuter's serial number now." Peg replied.

  The tavern's patrons had joined in the fight, armed to the teeth. Judging from the shouted curses, most of them believed the attack came from the Los Angeles City Authority. Instead of having one or two targets, the arriving hard crew suddenly faced nearly two dozen armed citizens in the tavern equipped with a razor-edged paranoia.