by Rob Guy
The front desk was starting to resemble a Swiss cheese. He would have had little hope if it wasn’t for Manny coming to the rescue. He burst through the front door brandishing something that looked like a miniature bullhorn. And who was that behind him? Jemima! Together they shouted some sort of war cry and let rip. Harry covered his ears as the whole of the front counter and office erupted in a crazy mess of wood, glass, plaster and plastic. The barrage lasted about ten seconds, but it was long enough. When they had finished, the pair sauntered forward to survey their work. Manny looked down at Harry.
“You okay, boss?” he said, his ugly weapon hanging by his side.
Harry took his hands away from his ears. “You done?”
“Looks that way. Are you hurt?” Manny fingered the whole in Harry’s sleeve. Jemima knelt beside him to take a closer look.
“Just a scratch. Well, at least I think it is,” he said, smiling at her.
Jemima looked serious and peeled back the fabric. “He’ll live,” she said simply. “But your tailor may need reviving when he sees this.” She turned her face to look up at Manny. Her long flowing hair fell over Harry’s face, and he inhaled the scent of lemongrass. He didn’t mind in the slightest. “Are we clear?” she asked.
“Let’s take a look. But we don’t have long. Coppers will be here soon. Where’s Petersen?”
“Erm, I’ve no idea,” Harry stuttered. “This is as far as I got.”
“Look what you’ve done to him,” Manny said to Jemima. “The poor man’s a wreck.”
“Like I said, he’ll live.” Jemima stood up and surveyed the scene. To Harry, she looked ten feet tall, a radiant goddess that had saved his life. Any second now she would unfurl her gossamer wings and fly him to safety.
“You got one,” she remarked, stepping over him and bringing him crashing back to reality.
“Two,” Harry replied, finally coming to his senses. “One behind the curtain.” He stood up and surveyed the mess. “Good job, you two. Thanks. Though I must confess I was only expecting Manny.”
“Got the girls to follow you while I procured this,” said the Irishman. He swung up the gun and presented it for inspection with a pleasing grin. “Look familiar?”
“You know damn well it does. Where’d you get it?”
“Never you mind. Let’s just say not all the atomisers were accounted for, eh?”
Harry shook his head. “Boy, if this doesn’t get us arrested, that will.” He pointed to Manny’s gun. “Okay. You two go left, I’ll check what’s left of the office.”
Manny nodded and headed for the now shredded curtains, Jemima a step behind him, her gun sweeping the area. Harry walked over to the right, and stepping over his second kill, pushed open the office door with one finger. It swung halfway before giving up and collapsed off its hinges. Inside there was wreckage, the remains of the office interior and furniture littered all over the place. Lying amongst all the debris were two more bodies, face down, and pretty well ventilated. Cursing, Harry turned them over with his boot, but neither one was Petersen. A quick look round indicated there was only the one door.
He walked back out into the lobby when he heard Manny calling him. Inside the other room, his friend was standing over one of three bodies.
“You got this one, obviously,” Manny said, and pointed to the blood stained shirt. “Nice shooting skip, two to the heart. Tap tap.”
“I wasn’t aiming for his heart, trust me. I just fired when I saw the curtain move. I was bloody scared.”
“So you should be. I’d be worried for anybody that isn’t shitting themselves during a fire fight.”
“Speak for yourself,” Jemima said.
“Besides, I fired three, but I guess two out of three ain’t bad.”
“Ah, well, there lies our problem. Take a look.” Manny stepped aside and indicated the third body, a dark hole in the forehead, with a trickle of blood coming out of it.
For a second Harry’s heart was in his mouth, but he looked at the man and didn’t recognize him. “So?” he asked rather flippantly.
“So?” Manny and Jemima looked at each other and laughed shortly. Manny took a deep breath, and scratched his forehead. “May I introduce the sheriff of Mars Central?”
Harry closed his eyes and chuckled. “Really?”
“Really really. We won’t be getting arrested today, at least not by this guy.” Manny sighed. “Seems that not only do we have Headlock’s men to deal with, now the bloody Martian constabulary are gonna be beating down on our heads.”
Harry started to laugh. “Oh boy. No more pseudo golf for you. You know? Headlock just might grant me a pardon for this?”
Manny, understandably, looked totally perplexed. “How’s that?”
“Never mind.” Harry closed his eyes for a just a second, and clenched the fist not holding his gun. “What the hell was he doing here?”
“Collecting for the charity ball of course. How the fuck should I know? I guess this confirms the guy was bent.”
Harry took a closer look at the sheriff’s wound. There was no doubt it had been caused by his gun. “I take it you can confirm that these charming individuals are the same ones you saw disembark the supply shuttle three days ago?”
“Can’t be certain of anything,” Manny replied honestly. “But it looks that way, doesn’t it?”
Harry nodded. “So how many we got? Two here, plus the sheriff, and three in the other room. Which means….”
Even as Harry spoke there came a noise behind them, out in the lobby, the sound of boots treading on the remains of the front desk. The three looked at one another before running out of the room, just in time to see two more men with an arm each, pushing a third through the front door.
“Hey!” Harry shouted.
“Oh shit!” cried Manny.
The two men spun round and opened fire. Whizz whee went the invisible tiny shells. Manny yelled and went down. Jemima screamed out a curse, and returned fire just as Harry fired twice at the first man. He needn’t have bothered. Boy was she quick! Each man fell backwards and through the doors. Jemima and Harry both glared at the third man. It was Petersen, and he was scared.
“He’s all yours,” Jemima said, breathing heavily, and went to look at Manny.
“Don’t move,” Harry said, levelling the gun at him. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Like hell! I can see what you’re carrying. You’ve had your thirteen!”
“There’s one in the chamber,” Harry lied. “Don’t move.”
“What about your buddy?”
“To Hell with me!” shouted Manny. “Wing that bastard, Harry!”
They stared at each other for what seemed an age. Then Petersen bolted, ducking down as he fled through the doors.
“Goddamn it!”
“You fucking idiot!” Manny shouted. He was slumped against the remains of the front desk, clutching his right shoulder. “Why’d you let him go?”
“Be still, Manny,” Jemima urged, looking intently at his wound.
“He’s smart. He must have heard the shots.”
“So he can fucking count! You had your chance.”
“There wasn’t one in the chamber. There wasn’t time to re-load.”
“But he couldn’t have known that. Aahh, Christ, it hurts.”
“Don’t be such a sissy,” Jemima told him.
“What can I do?” asked Harry.
Manny looked up at him with startled eyes, but then started laughing. “Sing me a song? A little jig maybe?”
“You need to be quiet,” Jemima said. “Help me get his jacket off, Harry.”
He knelt down beside his friend, sensing all was not well. “You look like shit,” he said as he helped Jemima with Manny’s coat.
“I’ll be okay.” But it was pretty clear Manny was far from okay. He was trembling, and already his brow was fevered. “It feels like a Stinger though,” he said, looking into Jemima’s eyes, his voice shaky. To Harry: “Be a good chap and fetch
the antidote out of the first aid. There must be one in the office.”
“Stinger? What the hell is that?”
“Poison, what else? I’ve got about three minutes before my insides burn up, unless my heart stops first, or if you’d prefer we can just chat, you know, catch up on old times and all that.”
“Go, Harry, be quick,” Jemima ordered.
Harry sprang up and disappeared. There were sounds of things being disturbed and thrown about, as well as a few inarticulate curses. After about a minute he returned. Manny had turned white, his face shiny with perspiration. Jemima was holding his hand whilst the other was pressed to her ear.
“Okay. Follow, but don’t intercept. That’s Harry’s job.”
“What is?”
She held up a hand. “He got one in the shoulder. He’s going to be okay. Don’t worry. Yes, he’s fine too.” She looked at Harry. “Okay. Be careful.” She removed her hand from her ear. “Jade has eyes on Petersen.”
“She’s outside?”
“Of course.”
Harry nodded. “I see. Good strategy. I’m impressed.”
“When you’ve quite finished,” rasped Manny. “There’s a, a, a heart needle, primed with adrenalin. Be a good boy and stab me with it, will you?”
“In the heart?” asked Harry, not thinking.
“No, in my fucking arse. Of course in my heart!”
“Sorry.”
“Give it here!” Jemima snapped. She took the large hypodermic from Harry’s grasp and locked eyes with Manny.
“That’s my girl. That first, then the antidote in the arm, the, the….” Manny’s good arm tried and failed to indicate the serum hypodermic.
But Harry had seen it, a tiny syringe primed just like the heart one. “The smaller second needle. I got it.”
He knelt back down beside Jemima, and watched as she ripped open Manny’s shirt. She hesitated only until she saw his face go slack. Brandishing the hypodermic like a dagger, she swung it downwards into his chest. The Irishman heaved up and exhaled with a sound like a wounded seal. He collapsed back down and did not move. Jemima took the antidote from Harry and pushed it into Manny’s upper arm. They waited. Harry looked at the doors, wondering where Petersen would run. He felt a tug at his sleeve.
“Go and find that fucking weasel,” Manny said, breathlessly. The color was slowly coming back into his face.
“I can’t leave you…. Can I?”
“Go get him, you stupid bastard. Just help me up and move me next door, somewhere, anywhere away from here.”
Harry and Jemima contrived to shift Manny to the adjacent vacant building, after having first forced the door. They set him down beneath the window looking onto the street.
“You’ll be okay here?” Harry asked.
“Don’t worry about me. Got my best girl here to look after me.”
Jemima sniffed and wiped her nose and eyes.
“I’ll meet you back at the bar,” said Manny.
“Not a good idea. You should make for Heidi’s apartment at The Hilton.”
“Why would I do that now?”
“Your shoulder needs attention, Manny. Heidi is a trained nurse.”
“So am I, in case you haven’t noticed,” Jemima said, a little indignantly.
Harry looked embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. But Heidi can help in other ways, too. There’s room there to hold out, till this mess gets sorted.”
“Assuming, of course, that she’s happy to have a bunch of strangers come and stay with her a while,” Manny panted.
“Heidi wouldn’t mind.”
“If you say so.”
Harry grimaced and turned his attention to Jemima. He took her by the shoulders. “Can I talk sense to you? I know Manny won’t listen. Promise me you’ll do what I say.”
Jemima’s expression was downcast. “I promise,” she said.
“Thank you.” Harry took her hands. “You did good, real good. Thank you.” He kissed her on the cheek. Jemima looked surprised, but recovered enough to smile.
“Hey, when you two are quite finished, I need some help here.” Manny fumbled with his good arm but couldn’t get at his holster. Harry guessed what he wanted, and took out the flask and opened it for him. “Just a wee tot,” Manny whispered, and took a swig of the whisky.
“Go right ahead, my friend.”
“You go now, go on. I’ll see you later.”
“At The Hilton. You promise?” He looked at Jemima.
“Yes, we promise. Now get going.”
“Okay, and thanks, Manny.”
“You’re welcome,” Manny said faintly. He was drifting off to sleep.
Harry stood over his friend a few seconds longer, satisfying himself that he was indeed only sleeping. “I’d better get going,” he said, and made for the open door.
“Wait,” said Jemima. She strode up to him, and placing her hands in the right places, kissed Harry passionately on the lips. “Be careful,” she breathed as they parted. “I want you in one piece. So does Jade.” She gently rubbed her thumb over his lips. “Pink doesn’t suit you,” she said softly.
“Erm…”
There was movement down below.
“Get going. We’ll continue this at a better time.” Jemima touched her ear. “Okay. Get back here.” She nodded and looked at Harry. “Jade’s on her way. She followed Petersen for a couple of blocks before she lost him in the crowd.”
“I see.”
“Well, that’s not entirely true,” Jemima volunteered, sounding sheepish.
Harry frowned. “How d’you mean?”
“Wow, you really don’t know, do you? Let’s just say she’s.... distracted at this time.”
Harry still didn’t get it. Then he did. “Ah. Look, Jemima, I’m .....”
“You need to get going before the police arrive. No more talk. Go.”
She turned on her high heels and went to sit with Manny.
Harry took a moment to gaze upon her. Despite the carnage and fury of the last few minutes, she still looked like she’d just stepped out of a beauty pageant, so easy was she on the eye. And then there was Jade.
He turned, shaking his head, and stuck it out the door. The coast was clear. He edged out and made off at a trot back towards Central Plaza.
32
The Council
Harry had no idea where Petersen might be, only that he must be scared. He saw no trace of Jade, but somehow he felt sure she’d seen him. She and her sister were certainly a find. All the years he had known Manny, his associate had never mentioned them.
Harry got two blocks, before he felt he was being followed. He could never fully account for it, but sometimes he just got the feeling that someone was watching him. He slowed his pace as he emerged back into Central Plaza. It was still business as usual, but he pretty much immediately saw his tail, or rather there were two of them, and that’s what was concerning him, other than the fact he was compromised. They were too obvious. It was as if they wanted him to spot them, and this made Harry even more wary of the situation. Either that or they were just plain incompetent.
There was a man on either side of him, and as Harry stopped and pretended to peruse a menu, both men did likewise. Harry couldn’t stop himself from laughing.
Yes, incompetent it is.
Someone came up beside him. “Can I interest you in anything, sir?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks.”
“How about this?”
Harry turned sharply at the voice, to be confronted by a short, corpulent individual. Something, he knew all too well what, was being pressed against his rib cage.
“Petersen, what the hell are you doing?”
“Saving myself from you.”
“Don’t be an ass. I’m here to help you. And you may like to know I’m being followed.”
Petersen looked quickly round. It was so easy for Harry to snatch the weapon, and turn it round and point it at a very startled hydrologist.
“A
nd it helps if you take the safety off.” Harry lowered the gun. “Look, we can’t talk here. We should….”
But Petersen was already turning to flee. Harry made an unsuccessful grab for his jacket, but his quarry was off and running. Harry lowered his head and sighed before setting off after him. He didn’t need to look back to see that his shadows were following.
He chased Petersen, but did not get too close. He was not the slimmest of people and was certainly not designed for a long pursuit. However, Harry allowed him some distance so that he could appraise his situation.
So here he was, chasing another runaway. As he jogged along, his mind was running too. Where was this going? He had to corner Petersen, and somehow convince him he was on his side. He also had to lose his two tails as soon as possible, preferably without violence. Either choice should not be too difficult, as he had convinced himself he was surrounded by amateurs.
Abruptly, Petersen veered off to the left to disappear down an alley. Harry followed to see him gasping and pulling at locked doors. Once he was satisfied his target was going nowhere, he pulled out the Captain, ducked behind a dumpster, and waited for his pursuers to catch up. He glanced down the alley, and shook his head. Only briefly did he consider that he was being set up. This was all too easy.
Within a minute, the two men appeared, cautious in their movements, but with no weapons drawn. This surprised Harry despite his pre-conceptions, but it did not prevent him from jumping up and aiming the Captain at the first man.
“You move, you die,” he said. “Both of you, in here now.”
“Take it easy, Mr Watt,” said the first man. “We’re here to help.”
“Sure you are. Come on, move.” He wagged the gun and the two men walked slowly past him, hands raised, eyes on the Captain. “Hey, Petersen! When you’re finished down there perhaps you would care to join us.”
“Screw you!”
“Hey! I’m not asking. Up here, now.”
Petersen, his hand tugging at another door handle, stopped and hung his head. “It was never meant to be like this. I’m supposed to die an old man, one who has lived a full life. In Paris!”
“Quit griping. You’re not dead yet. And I’m certainly not going to kill you. Get up here.”
