by Neil Hunter
“I can just imagine,” Cade said.
“One thing I can confirm,” Paris continued. “We have seen one of the bank’s top men in conversation with members of the Wreckers. It was a lucky break for us. We were staking out one of their safe houses and this guy turns up. Spent over an hour with them, and I’m certain they weren’t negotiating a loan for a new swimming pool.”
“What about an actual connection between the Wreckers and accounts in the bank?” Janek asked.
“That’s going through the data banks now,” Paris explained. “The connection’s there somewhere, lost in the list of phony front companies we’re chasing down. We don’t have anything yet.”
“We’ve got Harmon Lyall,” Janek said. “And I know that’s Brak. We all know it.”
“Knowing and proving, Janek,” Cade reminded his partner.
Janek banged his fist on the dash. “I’ve heard enough of this proof crap, Thomas. The three of us know who we’re after, and we know they’re as guilty as hell. So let’s forget all this legal bull and take them out.”
“Does he often get this excited?” Paris asked.
“Every now and then,” Cade answered. “I put it down to his deprived background.”
Paris chuckled. “It’s interesting. I mean seeing a cyborg of Janek’s advanced state displaying such human tendencies. I wonder if Dr. Landers has heard about him?”
Janek jerked around, eyes boring into Paris’s face. “You know Abby?”
Paris turned away, startled by his intense stare. “Why, yes. Do you?”
“Speak her name and you talk of love,” Cade said gently, unable to resist.
“Up yours, Thomas Jefferson Cade,” Janek crowed- “Dr. Landers and I have an association. I’m helping her to collect data for her research into cyborg behavioral patterns.”
Cade smiled. “That’s what I call my association with Kate.”
“That’s carnal,” Janek said. “Mainly to do with ripping the clothes off each other and doing it.”
“You said it, partner.”
“Janek, I want to hear about Dr. Landers and you,” Paris said. “Cade, hang a left at the next intersection, then go north.”
The hazy outline of jagged mountain peaks rose in undulating waves beyond the low hills surrounding the Wreckers’ secured estate. The compound was secluded, isolated and perfectly placed to provide the kind of security the traffickers felt they needed.
Cade drove slowly by the estate gates, noticing the armed guards just inside. As he slowed and pulled over a few hundred yards along Paris said, “Couple of cars just arrived.”
Cade peered into the rearview mirror, angling it so he could pick up the image of the gate. A pair of long, black limos was waiting for the gates to open. The moment they did, the limos slid through and out of sight.
“Guy in the rear of the second car was Juan Vasco. One of the Wreckers’ top men,” Paris said. “Looks like our information is correct.”
“So let’s not waste it,” Cade said, slipping the Cadillac into gear and making a fast U-turn. He throttled hard, feeling the vehicle surge forward.
“T.J.!” Janek said, pointing skyward.
Cade spotted the dark shape of a chopper over the estate. It dipped low, diving, then emitted a vivid flash followed by a plume of thick white vapor. A blurred shape erupted from the weapons pad beneath the chopper’s belly. It was angled toward the ground, beyond the line of trees that blocked off the main house from the road. Seconds later the sound of an explosion reached Cade’s ears.
“Ryker!” he said. “It has to be that son of a bitch!”
Cade swung around as he neared the barred gates, making the tires squeal. The heavy car slewed, almost fishtailing, but Cade hung on to the wheel and kept it under control. He kept his foot hard down, surging straight toward the gates.
“I just knew I wasn’t going to like this,” Janek grumbled, bracing himself.
The car struck the gates head-on, springing them open with a squeal of tortured metal. One of the two armed guards was sent flying as a swinging gate struck him.
The second guard, dodging the gates, opened up with his SMG, raking the side of the Cadillac with hot slugs.
Paris rolled out the side of the car, landing lightly, and closed in on the gun-wielding guard. As he turned to meet her attack, she launched a sweeping leg kick that struck his midsection. Driven back by the sheer force of the blow, the guard’s limp form crashed against one of the stone pillars that supported the gates.
Paris retrieved the guard’s abandoned SMG and searched him for extra ammo clips. Janek did the same with the first guard, then followed Paris back to the Cadillac.
“You ready now?” Cade asked. “Or would you like time to pick some flowers?”
Janek, stuffing spare ammo clips into his pocket, glanced at Paris. “All the time I get this. Nag, nag, nag. Worse than being married to the guy.”
Cade floored the pedal and the Cadillac streaked along the curved drive. A thick line of trees and bushes obscured the house. More explosions rocked the area, followed by the rattle of auto fire.
“Must be hell on the neighbors,” Janek suggested dryly.
Armed figures burst from the dense bushes and cut across the wide lawn. Seeing the Cadillac they opened fire.
“Bail out!” Cade yelled, yanking the steering wheel hard left, bringing the Cadillac broadside on. The volley hammered at the stalled car, puncturing the steel panels.
They jumped out of the car, rolling to the ground on the blind side. Cade crouch-walked to the front of the vehicle, leaning forward to pinpoint the advancing gunners.
An auto weapon crackled harshly. Slugs clanged against the chromed front grille.
Cade pulled back.
As he did, Paris rose to her full height. Her SMG ripped out a sustained burst that raked the pair of gunners. The impact knocked them off their feet in a misty red haze.
“Clear!” Paris shouted.
They spread out, moving at a steady lope along the drive.
The attack chopper zoomed into sight over the trees, banking as it made a return run.
“He’ll do it all for us,” Janek said as the chopper dipped out of sight beyond the trees. “Save us the trouble if we’re lucky.”
Rounding a curve in the drive, they were confronted by what looked like a war zone.
The parking area in front of the house was a mess. Half a dozen cars lay in ruins. Flame and smoke gushed from the charred, blistered wrecks. Debris was scattered everywhere, and smoking craters dotted the concrete. There were a number of charred bodies sprawled around.
A flitting shadow darkened the ground. The attack chopper’s rotary cannon made a deafening chatter. A relentless stream of shells chewed through everything in its path. Yelling figures scattered wildly. Some, too slow, were struck by the lashing cannon fire. Bleeding, punctured people were tossed across the concrete, some dying instantly, others screaming for help.
Cade, ducking behind a carved lawn ornament, found himself next to a lanky black guy. Wide-eyed and sweating, he stared at the Justice cop. His white suit was stained and bloody. Despite his fear, he recognized Cade as a stranger and snatched at his chrome-plated autopistol slung in a shoulder holster.
Jamming the muzzle of his Magnum under the trafficker’s nose, Cade shook his head slowly. “Just isn’t your day, pal.”
“Who the fuck are you? You with the psycho in the chopper?”
“No way. I’m the law. Figure it as your luck changing.”
Freeing plastic cuffs from a pocket, Cade ordered the trafficker to put his hands behind him. He slipped the loop over the guy’s wrists and yanked it tight.
“You won’t be needing this,” Cade said, slipping the man’s gun from its sheath and tucking it under his belt.
“What the hell you up to?”
“Just looking up an old friend.”
“Like who?”
“Loren Brak.”
“He what all this shit is a
bout?”
“The guy in the chopper? Some old friends of Brak’s from New York sent him. They got upset when he ran out on them with all their money. Now they want it back and Brak dead.”
The black guy scowled. “You sayin’ we’re getting blown all to hell because Brak pissed off his partners?”
“Yeah,” Cade said, enjoying the irony.
“Shit, I figured this deal had a weird smell to it all along. Brak never said anything about pullin’ the sky down on us.”
“So tell me where he is and I’ll take him off your hands.”
The black guy chuckled. “You got your nerve.”
“So?”
“He’s in the house. That’s all I can tell you. I only just rolled in myself when all the fireworks started.”
Cade twisted around the lawn ornament. The chopper had pulled away again for another sweep, leaving the area temporarily deserted. The Justice cop pushed to his feet and made a dash for the house’s main entrance.
Janek’s voice reached him from his right. “T.J.? I lost you.”
Cade waved the cyborg over. “Brak’s inside somewhere.”
They ducked just inside the wide porch as someone opened up with an SMG. Slugs chewed at the brickwork, showering them with fragments. Janek, looking over his shoulder, saw the open door. He touched Cade’s sleeve, and they eased inside.
Cade saw movement and turned, the Magnum rising.
A house droid, clad in the black jacket and gray pants of a butler, lurched into view. Its hands and face were polished chrome steel. A section of the gleaming skull had been damaged, evidently by a piece of debris that had crashed through a window. The droid came to a jerky halt as it sensed Cade’s presence.
“... moment, sir, and I will announce you...”
The words were repeated over and over, accompanied by repetitive movements. The damaged droid was locked in a short sequence that would encompass its entire universe until its power pack ran down.
Across the wide foyer a door swung open and armed figures burst into view, fanning out to provide protection for others following on their heels. A bunch of men clustered around the door.
“I think we’ve got our targets spotted,” Cade said.
Janek advanced, covering Cade with his body. Some of the armed protection squad turned to force the bunched group back inside the room, while others leveled their weapons at the advancing Justice cops.
“Paris!” Janek called out.
The L. A. cop approached, her SMG laying down a line of fire that dropped one gunner. Janek’s weapon joined in, taking out two more gunners.
One gunner triggered his stubby SMG, the slugs crackling against the tiled floor. He raised the muzzle at the last moment, and a trio of slugs caught Paris in the right leg, knocking her off balance for a few seconds. The cyborg twisted her slender form to come up on one knee, firing a blast of slugs into the gunner’s skull. He flew backward, slamming against the wall, his shattered skull making a sticky mess.
The distraction caused by the cyborgs’ combined fire gave Cade the opportunity to approach the door that had now been slammed shut. As the last gunman collapsed in a pool of his own blood, Cade slammed a shoulder against the door, bursting it open. He followed through, going into the room low and breaking to one side. He heard the explosion of gunfire and felt the impact of slugs hitting the wall above his head.
Kneeling, Cade swung the muzzle of the autopistol around. It stopped on the first of a pair of gunners who had pointed their own weapons at him.
Cade triggered quickly. A trio of .357s penetrated the guy’s broad chest and he flew across the room. Cade instantly switched his aim to the second guy.
The gunner fired first. His single shot laid a slug across Cade’s left side, burning a bloody line over his ribs. Then Cade responded. His aim was better. The gunner went over, arms thrown wide, blood fanning out across his shirt from the heart shot.
Behind the retreating traffickers Cade saw wide glass doors open to the rear of the house, and beyond, a wide expanse of lawn.
Somewhere near the doors other gunmen were trying to get a clear shot at Cade. He moved deeper into the room, dodging behind a large executive-style desk.
One gunner stepped clear of the group and fired his auto weapon. Slugs bored into the polished desktop, filling the air with splinters. Cade tipped the heavy piece of furniture on its side, keeping low as more slugs thudded into the thick wood. He dragged himself to the edge of the desk and rolled around, his gun hand ahead of him. He picked up the figure of the gunner, leaned out and triggered hard and fast.
The guy bounced as slugs pierced his upper chest, spinning him off his feet. He hit the floor cursing wildly but still gripping his SMG. Struggling to sit, he turned the gun on Cade’s partially exposed figure. Cade shot again, planting a slug directly between the guy’s wide, angry eyes. The gunner flopped over on his back, heels drumming in protest against the plush carpet.
Pulling back into cover, Cade ejected the spent magazine and fumbled for a fresh one. His fingers brushed against his side, coming away sticky with blood. He ignored the sight and the nagging pain and jammed a fresh magazine into the weapon.
A shadow brushed across the upturned desk. Cade twisted around to see a gaudily dressed trafficker lunge with a slim-bladed switchblade.
Cade ducked as the keen blade sliced the air and scarred the desktop. The Justice cop swept his right leg around in a half circle, catching the guy behind the ankles and knocking his feet from under him. The trafficker crashed against the desk, grunting as the breath was slammed from his lungs. He made a blind slash with the knife, almost catching Cade’s arm.
In the heat of the moment the trafficker lunged upright, as though forgetting Cade’s gun. He thrust the tip of the switchblade at Cade’s face. Cade eased back, then whacked the butt of the Magnum against the guy’s nose. Blood spurted in thick gouts from his nostrils. He clapped one hand to his nose, bellowing with wild rage. He swung his knife arm again but missed, and the force turned him halfway around. Cade jammed the muzzle of the Magnum against his opponent’s left side and pulled the trigger. The slug blew out the other side, taking ribs and flesh with it. The trafficker went down in a loose heap.
“You going to play about all day?” Janek called as he and Paris burst through the door.
Ignoring his partner’s jibe, Cade ran for the open glass doors. The way was clear now. The traffickers and their protectors had taken advantage of Cade’s delay and had scattered.
As Janek appeared a burst of auto fire shattered the glass door. He dropped to one knee, lifted his SMG and returned fire. The gunman was caught square in the chest and went down in the middle of a smooth, expansive lawn.
“You see Brak?” Cade asked.
“There,” Paris said.
Cade followed her pointing finger.
Loren Brak, flanked by a trio of men, was closing in on a black truck. Other vehicles were parked on a small paved area beside the house.
“Not again,” Cade muttered. “He ran out on me too many times.”
He ran parallel with the back of the house, using lawn ornaments and shrubbery as cover.
Janek pounded after him, laying down shots to dissuade the remaining gunners from interfering.
There was a moment when Paris thought of joining them, but her attention was drawn by the attack chopper as it swung across the rear lawn, raking everyone in sight with the rotary cannon. Gouts of earth spouted up as shells pounded the ground. Easy targets, the scattering traffickers went down like grass beneath a windstorm.
Reloading her SMG, Paris watched the chopper come in for a landing. The hatches slid open and disgorged a quartet of armed figures. The cyborg recognized Ryker but none of the others, although she knew their profession. They were hired guns, men who earned their living by the killing trade.
Glancing at Janek’s retreating figure, Paris realized that the New York cops had their hands full going after Loren Brak. They didn’t need Ryker on
their tails right now.
She ran forward, SMG held ready. “Justice marshal. You’re under arrest, Ryker. I want those hands up high where I can see them.”
A couple of the hired guns hesitated. Ryker didn’t even break his stride. Paris even saw him grin. She reminded herself that this was the man who had instigated the death of Wexler, her partner.
She triggered, taking out one of the gunners. She aimed the follow-up volley at the chopper. The slugs cored through the hatch vent cover and tore into the electronic control panels, efficiently disabling the machine.
Ryker’s other gunners returned fire. They were good, too. Worthy of their pay, Paris thought as her titanium-steel flexi-coat absorbed the impact of the auto-fire. The force pushed her to her knees. Paris’s clothing shredded, and her synthetic skin split to expose the gleaming steel beneath.
“It’s a cybo!” one of the gunners yelled a second before Paris laid a trio of slugs through his skull.
“You can’t stop those fuckers,” another said.
“Can’t you?” Ryker said.
For a microsecond his eyes locked with Paris’s.
His gun hand came up, the big autopistol lining up rock steady, and Paris read deep into his mind.
The pistol fired.
Once.
And just before the slug cored in through Paris’s right eyepiece, she knew the truth about Ryker. But by then it was too late. Her electronic mind blew apart in a blinding flash. For Paris the world closed down permanently.
Chapter Fourteen
Janek was never sure afterward why he looked back over his shoulder.
But he retained the memory of what he saw.
In the second he looked back, Ryker triggered the single shot that ended Paris’s existence. The female cyborg was driven to the ground by the powerful slug that ripped into her skull and destroyed her brain.
Janek wanted to turn and go after Ryker. But his loyalty was to Cade, and nothing could have drawn him from that.
He followed his partner, conscious of the probability of Brak’s slipping through their fingers again.
Across the lawn Ryker turned and watched the line of pursuit, recognizing the figures in the distance.
