Cade 3

by Neil Hunter

  “They won’t be going as far as you, pal,” Cade said. “Not all the way to Mars.”

  “Man has a sense of humor,” Thornton said. “Mind he’ll need it when I get him in my jail.”

  “I’ll pass on that,” Cade said.

  “You dumb cop,” Brak said. “You really think that Justice badge means a damn thing out here?”

  Dekker managed a mirthless grin. “You ain’t in the big city now, Cade. This is our territory. We run it and we make the rules.”

  Cade stared at the man. “Dekker, I’ve been making my own rules longer than you’ve had hairs on your fat ass!”

  “Son of a bitch!” Thornton yelled, suddenly swinging around from Dekker’s desk. His left arm came into view, a heavy onyx ashtray in his hand. Throwing the object at Cade, he lunged forward.

  Cade twisted, his SMG’s muzzle tracking away from the group as he arched his upper body away from the ashtray. It caught him on the right shoulder, and he gasped in pain. He sensed Thornton’s heavy bulk looming close, felt the cop’s thick shoulder slam into his chest. The force spun Cade across the room, bouncing him off the far wall.

  Thornton, his beefy face stretched in a snarl, reached out with huge, clawing hands. One batted aside the SMG as the other groped for Cade’s throat. Cade pulled back, feeling Thornton’s fingers brush his flesh. Then he lashed out with the toe of his boot, whacking it up between Thornton’s heavy thighs. The police chief uttered a screech. Cade shoved himself away from the wall, launching a hard fist that clouted Thornton under his wide, fleshy jaw. The meaty sound filled the room. Thornton slumped sideways, falling to his knees, head sagging. Blood began to dribble from his mouth where his teeth had snapped shut on his tongue.

  Janek’s response was swift and immediate. Rising, the cyborg reached the other three before Thornton had even struck Cade. Janek planted his tall frame in front of the three, the muzzle of his SMG unwavering.

  “Not a chance in hell,” he said with a benign smile on his face.

  Bending over Thornton, Cade looped plastic cuffs around the crooked cop’s thick wrists. “I’m running out of these damn things,” he said.

  “So let’s shoot the rest of ‘em,” Janek offered. “Save everyone a deal of trouble.”

  Rubbing his sore shoulder, Cade crossed over to cuff Dekker, then the computer operator. “You got one for Mr. Brak?” Cade asked.

  Janek tossed a plastic loop across to his partner, returning to the computer.

  “Anything interesting on there?”

  Janek gave a low chuckle. “Like winning the jackpot.”

  Cade finished cuffing the drug trafficker. He spun Brak around. “Where’s Jessup?”

  Brak maintained a poker face. “Who?”

  “We had a make on your trigger before we left N.Y.,” Janek said. “Want me to recite his rap sheet?”

  “I don’t know any Jessup.”

  “No? But I bet you’re wishing he’d come through that door right now with that Casull autocannon.”

  Brak held Cade’s rigid stare. The trafficker held out for almost a full minute before he switched his gaze, color rising in his cheeks.

  “I love it when someone gives in gracefully,” Cade said.

  “Yes!” Janek whooped. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  “Don’t fuse your chips,” Cade said, leaning over his partner’s shoulder. “What, already?”

  “These turkeys have only put it all down for us,” Janek explained. He pointed to names and locations on the monitor. “Delivery points. Distribution and local dealers from here to N.Y. and all points north and south. Brak’s new setup, T.J.”

  “How you figure it’s his new one?”

  “Because the info I took from the memory back in N.Y. included a similar list. This is an updated one. Some of the locations are the same, but most of the dealer names are different. The new names will be to replace dealers from the old days who wouldn’t play ball. Want to bet some of these names have been disappearing? Maybe turning up dead?”

  “That the way it is, Brak?” Cade asked.

  The trafficker gave a nervous laugh. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You might as well let me go now, because there ain’t enough to convict me of a damn thing.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” Cade said. He leaned forward so Brak could see his face clearly. “I can decide what to do on our way back to N.Y. Haul you in for trial or settle it on the road.” »

  “What?” Brak frowned.

  The computer operator cleared his throat nervously. “He’s a Justice marshal, Brak. Hell, man, you know how they operate.” The operator’s face gleamed with sweat.

  “Barranca, you keep your loose mouth shut,” Brak snapped, lunging at the man.

  “Or what?” Barranca asked. “You goin’ to ice me, Brak? You don’t, he will. Either way I ain’t got much of a future, compadre. Eh? So screw you, Brak. You don’t like it, sue me.”

  “Hell,” Dekker said. “You can’t trust anyone these days.”

  “Depressing, isn’t it?” Janek said in a concerned tone. “Makes you wonder sometimes if it’s all worth it.”

  The cyborg leaned over the keyboard, chuckling as he punched in the code for a full readout. “This is interesting, T.J.”

  Cade scanned the information on-screen. “They were the names you mentioned earlier. The financiers.”

  Janek pointed out numbers. “Bank deposit numbers. Names. Amounts. They tally with the numbers decoded. Now follow this, T.J. Look at the amounts. Same amounts. But they’ve got a different number now. The same number.”

  “Who the hell is this Harmon Lyall?”

  “I have a feeling you’ve got him cuffed and ready for transit,” Janek said quietly.

  “Brak?”

  Janek nodded. “If I have time, I’ll pin down the location of this new account. Oh, and another thing. Brak has double-crossed the financiers, as well. He’s transferred all their payoff money to a single account, under a false name.”

  “Just get that data locked away in your memory. I don’t want to lose a single digit.”

  Janek raised his hand and wiggled his fingers. “Already done, Thomas. Would I ever be less than efficient?”

  “In that case let’s get the hell out of here before Jessup shows up. Our luck can’t hold forever. We can go after him later.”

  “Back up to the roof?”

  Cade nodded. “We’ll grab one of those choppers and head for the airstrip.” He indicated the text on the monitor. “Can you lose that stuff on-screen? Permanently. I don’t want anyone else accessing it.”

  Janek’s fingers made swift passes over the keyboard. He keyed in a number of overrides, cutting through the computer’s data-protection shield.

  “Hey, what’s he doing?” Brak demanded, pushing toward the computer.

  “This is legitimate business data,” Dekker blustered. “I’ll have my lawyer serve you so many writs you ain’t goin’ to have time to read ‘em all.”

  “Dekker, shut up. Mister, you’re busted, and you know it.”

  Cade snatched up the vid-phone, punching in a priority department code that connected him with Brad-dock’s office in New York.

  “T.J.? Where are you?” Braddock asked as his face appeared on the vid-screen.

  “Kansas,” Cade said. “And forget what Dorothy said, the yellow brick road doesn’t take you to Oz.”

  He gave a brief rundown of events, bringing Brad-dock up to date with details of Mid State. “Get a local department team in here fast. I want this place shut down and searched. Tell the team they might have some resistance. There’s a drug stash here somewhere. I don’t want to risk losing my prisoners, so we’re heading straight home.”

  “Don’t get slack, T.J. It isn’t over until it’s finished,” Braddock said.

  “That man has a way with words,” Janek muttered.

  “I heard that,” Braddock said.

  The cyborg pulled a face, unseen by Braddock.

  Cade cut th
e connection. He yanked the vid-phone’s cord out of the wall junction box. Then he raised the SMG. “We are, as they say, out of here. Move it.”

  The group headed for the door. Janek hooked an arm under Thornton’s and pulled the groggy cop to his feet. “Fresh air will clear your head, Chief,” he said lightly.

  Cade opened the door, checking the passage. Apart from the immobilized sec-droid, it was clear. “No hanging around, boys,” he said.

  Janek ushered the prisoners ahead of him up the roof stairs. Cade held back, watching the far end of the passage. Emerging on the roof, Janek herded the group across to the parked helicopters.

  “Take Brak’s chopper,” Cade said. “Room for everyone in there.”

  Janek opened the hatch.

  Cade started across to Thornton’s police helicopter, intending to disable it.

  He was reaching for the hatch access handle when a dark shadow fell across the chopper. Cade glanced skyward and saw another helicopter, slipping in silent mode toward the roof. It was a sleek, high-speed model, matt black and with an opaque canopy. The lowering sun threw vivid orange splashes of color over the burnished surfaces as the chopper swept in only feet above the roof.

  Backing away from the police chopper, Cade yelled a warning, his eyes settling on the underslung rotary cannon fixed to the oncoming chopper.

  The cannon’s six barrels began to wink with spears of fire. Heavy-caliber shells pounded the roof, chewing ragged holes and filling the air with debris. The marching line of shells tore into the police chopper, shearing metal and plastic. Slivers flew in all directions. Cannon shells found the fuel tanks, and the blue-and-white chopper erupted in a fiery ball, spewing blazing fuel.

  Cade felt the searing heat touch him as he hit the roof, bouncing and rolling, buffeted by the force of the blast.

  The world was suddenly full of noise and color and heat. The cacophony overwhelmed him, yet he was still able to hear the high, wailing scream of someone in pain. Then even that sound was drowned by more cannon fire, the heavy, tearing racket numbing his eardrums.

  He struggled to climb to his feet, feeling the impact of falling debris. He had barely regained his balance when a second explosion blew the day apart. Flame and smoke rolled across the roof. Knocked flat again, he lay half-conscious, stunned by the blast and choking on the drifting smoke. It hardly seemed worthwhile trying to stand up again—so he stayed the hell where he was.

  “Let’s go, Thomas! You can lie down all you want when you’re dead! Now move it!”

  Cade snapped out of the daze as Janek’s voice boomed in his ear. He felt the cybo grab his arm and drag him to his feet.

  The whole roof appeared to be on fire. Fuel from the burning helicopters had been sprayed in all directions, igniting and blazing fiercely. Thick smoke rolled from the shattered hulks of the wrecked machines. A scattering of debris was spread across the area. Most of it was from the machines.

  Some was human.

  Thornton and Dekker were down. Permanently, their bodies shredded and scorched, frozen in the rigid postures of death.

  Barranca was on his knees, head down on his chest, moaning to himself as he clutched his shredded right arm. Blood was pulsing from his butchered shoulder, soaking his shirt. One side of his face was raw and blistered from the flames.

  “Where’s Brak?” Cade yelled above the noise.

  Janek ignored him, half-dragging his partner across the roof, away from the carnage. The cyborg was aware of the attack chopper still around, hovering somewhere in the pall of smoke.

  “Janek! Where is he?” Cade insisted.

  “He ducked back inside,” the cyborg replied. “Now keep moving, Thomas, I need my hands free.”

  Janek planted a hand between Cade’s shoulders and shoved him between a couple of vent canopies. Turning, the cyborg swung his SMG into position, triggering a sustained burst at the attack chopper as it dropped into view again, swooping across the roof like a vulture, the rotary cannon loosing off streams of shells.

  “Barranca! Move, man!” Janek yelled.

  His words broke through too late. As Barranca stumbled to his feet, turning to run, he stepped directly into the path of the cannon fire. The stream of shells caught him and whipped his shuddering figure across the roof. Their destructive power chewed him apart. Gouts of bloody flesh and bone exploded from Barranca’s body. The shells almost tore him in half, depositing his writhing, humping form face down on the roof.

  Turning sharply, the attack chopper pulled away as Janek’s auto fire laid a line of sparking hits along the lower fuselage.

  “He’ll be back,” Janek said. “Inside, Thomas.”

  They broke for the access door.

  As they neared it, the door burst open and a man appeared, opening fire with an auto rifle.

  Janek moved sideways as the stream of slugs whizzed over his head.

  Before the gunner could alter his aim, Cade hit him, shoulder first, wrapping his arms around the guy’s torso. The forward motion of his headlong charge took both men back through the door and down the inner stairs. As they hit bottom, Cade kicked free, rolling and regaining his feet, turning quickly to face the gunner.

  Closing his fingers over the dropped auto rifle, the gunner pulled the weapon close as he rose. Blood was trickling down the side of his face. He searched for Cade, eyes locking on the Justice cop.

  Cade swung his booted foot in a looping arc. It smashed against the side of the gunner’s head, slamming him to the floor. Cade snatched the auto rifle, covering the passage as Janek followed him down the stairs.

  “Brak came in here,” Janek said. “He’ll be trying to get out of the building.”

  “Let’s go,” Cade snapped, and made for the opposite end of the passage from Dekker’s office,

  A flight of stairs led to the floor below. They emerged on a wide landing with more passages leading to other offices. The landing had a longer flight of stairs leading to the ground floor. The reception area was almost deserted because of the gunfire and explosions.

  Cade rushed downstairs, his rising anger fueled by the loss of his prisoner. He refused to give up on Brak. The trafficker was behind all the mayhem that had taken place from New York to Kansas. People were dead and Brak was responsible. Cade had no intention of allowing him to escape.

  He burst out of the main doors. A parking lot spread out before him. Cars were being started as the evacuated people from the building tried to get clear. All they managed to do was create a noisy traffic snarl.

  “See him?” Cade asked as Janek joined him.

  The cybo scanned the parking lot. The light was fading now, shadows lengthening.

  “There!” Janek said.

  Cade followed his finger.

  He saw Loren Brak on the east side of the lot. His hands cuffed behind his back, the trafficker was scrambling up a grassy bank, stumbling, falling, then clambering to his feet and running on.

  “Go!” Cade yelled. “I’ll cut around the other side.”

  Janek ran across the parking lot, dodging the moving cars with ease.

  Skirting the edge of the lot, Cade tried to ignore the burning pain deep in his chest. His breathing was still labored from the smoke he’d inhaled.

  Janek was closing fast, lessening the distance between himself and Brak.

  The squeal of brakes alerted the cyborg to possible danger. A powerful Pontiac SportsBird Turbo roared along a feeder road on a line that would intersect with Brak.

  Clearing the final row of parked vehicles, Janek hit the grassy bank. He pounded across it, angling toward Brak.

  The Pontiac swung close to Brak, the passenger door opening. Brak, bending to climb into the car, paused to look over his shoulder. Not at Janek. The trafficker was looking above the cyborg’s head.

  Janek turned and saw the attack chopper diving from the graying sky. The cannon began to fire, shells chewing up the pavement just short of the Pontiac.

  Janek shouldered the SMG and tracked the chopper.
He fired off short bursts, laying his shots across the chopper’s fuselage. Holding his ground, he fired again and again, seeing his shots strike the chopper. Suddenly trails of smoke emanated from the engine compartment. They grew thicker. Then the chopper’s engine began to falter, the even sound turning ragged.

  The chopper pulled up and away, curving out of range. It disappeared in the haze of smoke shrouding the roof of the Mid State building.

  The screech of tires reached Janek’s ears. He twisted around to see the Pontiac speeding toward the main highway. He could see that Cade had dropped to one knee, his auto rifle up to his shoulder as the Pontiac raced along. The rifle jerked as he pumped shot after shot at the fleeing vehicle. The Pontiac swerved but maintained its speed. It bounced over the crest of the feeder road and disappeared from sight.

  Janek felt a growing frustration. He stared at the spot where the car had vanished.

  “Shit!” he exclaimed. “We blew it this time, partner. We really blew it.”

  Chapter Ten

  Mid Town’s police station was a square building, with the administration area occupying the upper two floors and the cells in the basement. The cells were filled with Mid Town’s law force and some employees from Mid State Freight. Once news had leaked out that Chief Thornton and Dekker were dead, the Justice Department team from Kansas City had been swamped with information about who was involved in the drug dealing. It had been a night of confusion and bitterness. In Mid Town there was a great deal of resentment of Thornton’s iron rule of law and Dekker’s involvement with the traffickers. With the removal of the main oppressors, the floodgates had opened and information came thick and fast.

  Jack Brink, the Kansas City Justice marshal, entered the office previously used by Chief Thornton and helped himself to a mug of coffee from the percolator.

  “Damn good brew, T.J.,” he said. “Thornton was a lousy cop but he had good taste in coffee.”

  Cade tossed down a sheaf of papers, arching his back. He pushed the comfortable recliner back from the desk and stood. Since the roof attack Cade and Janek had taken time to get themselves cleaned up and into some fresh clothes. Cade felt cosmetically better but was still aching from the physical effort. Plus, he was sore about losing Loren Brak.