by Neil Hunter
CONTENTS
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
preview of CADE 2: HARDCASE
CADE 1: DARKSIDERS
By Neil Hunter
First Published by Gold Eagle Books in 1992, under the name Mike Linaker
Copyright © 1992 by Michael R. Linaker
Published by Piccadilly Publishing at Smashwords: November 2012
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading the book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Cover image © 2012 by Nicola Birrell and Piccadilly Publishing
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book
Published by Arrangement with the Author.
Chapter One
The instant the soft tone of the com unit in his pocket told Cade that his partner was in position at the rear of the warehouse, he moved in, leading with the big .357 Magnum auto-pistol in his right hand.
He hit the side door with his shoulder, feeling the rusting steel panel cave in. The door slammed against the inside wall with a hollow crash, dislodging years of accumulated dust and flakes of concrete.
The interior was lit by a few stark tube lights suspended from the overhead beams. They gave enough illumination for Cade to pinpoint the dealers and buyers who were bunched around the open trunk of a Buick Rocket he had followed in from Syracuse.
The moment Cade barreled through the door, all interest in the deal was lost.
‘Freeze!’ Cade shouted. ‘Justice Department! Nobody move!’
The man who had sat behind the Buick’s wheel yelled something unintelligible and swiveled in Cade’s direction.
He dragged a sawed-off Remington Auto 12-gauge from under his leather coat and opened up without warning.
Cade took a long dive, hitting the concrete floor on his left shoulder. He rolled frantically, hearing the Remington blast out shot after shot. Powdery concrete dusted the air as the slugs left a pockmarked trail on the warehouse floor.
Coming to a halt against an overturned fuel drum, Cade gathered his legs under him and powered up off the floor in a single motion. The auto-pistol rose with him, tracking in on the shotgunner. Cade pulled back on the trigger, feeling the power of the heavy weapon as it fired. The hollow-point caught the dealer in the left chest, high up. The expanding slug took away a chunk of flesh as it ripped through his body, and his left arm lost all its strength.
It sagged uselessly at his side. The dealer let out a yell of pain and rage, and despite his pain, he tried to take out Cade with the Remington held one-handed. But the .357 beat him to it, the second slug catching him between the eyes and snapping his head back in a mist of dark blood.
As the dealer tumbled to the floor, Cade swept the Magnum across his body, triggering at a swarthy-looking man with a sub-gun who emerged from the cover of the Buick’s trunk. The sub-gun began to crackle, but Cade’s bullets had already found their mark, and the sub-gun expended its load into the floor. The weapon’s owner flopped back against the car, his chest glistening with spreading blood.
The rest of the group had split apart and were seeking escape routes, covering themselves with occasional bursts. Two of them headed for the far end of the warehouse, and Cade ignored these. His partner would deal with them.
He concentrated on the remaining two.
They clearly weren’t in the right frame of mind to give themselves up. They had been busted in the act of dealing in illegal weapons. That meant a non-negotiable term of hard time on the Mars Project, helping construct the first city and the space port on one of the off-world shuttle platforms. Nobody with any sense left inside their skull was going to chance that. It was worth the risk trying to escape. Even a slug from the gun of a Justice Marshal was preferable. Cade took off after the pair, aware that they both were armed.
They crashed their way through pyramids of crates, then Cade saw them veer to one side, heading for the deeper shadows along the wall. He followed, dodging in and out among boxes and crates, quick and light on his feet.
Gunfire winked out of the shadows, and Cade altered his line of travel. Bullets whined against the steelwork of the warehouse supports, sparks flashing briefly. Cade returned fire, his target pinpointed by the muzzle-flash.
‘Over here!’ one of the suspects yelled.
The shout was followed by an echoing crash. An oblong of pale light broke the darkness.
Cade quickly realized that they had found a door and were going to make a break for it. Their chances had just improved by fifty percent, he thought grimly.
He followed, ignoring the risk. As he reached the open door, an auto-weapon crackled from the outer darkness. Cade ducked low, feeling the door frame shudder as a hail of high-powered slugs struck it.
He dived through the door, breaking right, almost on his knees. He peered into the gloom of the deserted alley, breathing in the stench of decay. Up ahead he caught the rattle of scurrying feet. Turning in that direction, he spotted his suspects. He powered after them, his finger ready on the trigger, ready to draw a bead when he had a second’s chance.
They were heading for the distant mouth of the alley, where bright neon lights created a rainbow of color out of the darkness. There was noise, too, and movement. Cade swore angrily as he realized where the suspects were heading.
The alley opened up onto Chinatown.
If they mingled with the teeming crowds, he would lose them. And he had no intention of doing that. He had spent almost two whole weeks building up to the night’s confrontation, living and breathing in New York’s lower levels.
Cade did not like losing out on a bust. He took it personally.
He never knew why one of the running men stopped to fire at him. If he had kept going the way his partner did, he might have escaped. But when he was only a few yards from the mouth of the alley, the man suddenly swiveled around. The dark SMG in his hands rose, spitting flame as he triggered it at the pursuing officer.
Cade felt slugs chew at the collar of his jacket as he twisted to one side. He banged up against the wall, then regained his balance and threw up the auto-pistol.
His finger worked the trigger in rapid fire, the .357’s muzzle flicking up. Shell casings rang sharply against the floor of the alley.
The suspect threw his arms wide, back-pedaling out of control. His chest and throat pumped blood. He gave a scared cry and fell back, his body shuddering uncontrollably as the shock effect of the slugs ravaged his nervous system.
Cade fed a fresh clip into the pistol and jacked the slide back to cock it, then ran past the dying man.
Ahead of him the Chinatown crowd scattered, alarmed by the rattle of gunfire.
Cade burst from the alley into the noise and color of the street. Cars were lined up fender to fender as they inched through the busy thoroughfare.
Chinatown, New York, 2052, hadn’t changed much in the past hundred years.
The inhabitants still respected many of the old ways and chose to follow the more deeply rooted traditions and customs that had serve
d China for a thousand years.
But they were children of technology, too, and side by side with the old ways, relied on some of the most advanced machines and processes of the time. Among the hand-painted signs and delicate filigrees of Chinese decorations were neon lights and holographic advertisements. The electronic wizardry of the twenty-first century was artfully blended with the subtle finery of the Chinese artisans.
Street stalls still sold herbal medicines, and the fortune teller’s bird picked out the customer’s future from a pile of cards. In the shop corners and smoky rooms the old men played endless games of mah-jongg, clicking and shuffling the ivory blocks to sudden cries of excitement or sharp rebukes. Outside, the misty air, hazed by a myriad collection of lights, brought the sounds and scents of China to New York’s crowded streets. Steam from pots of boiling noodles mingled with the aromas of black-bean sauce, bowls of rich lobster and chicken stew. Above the noise rose the ever-present, shrill cadences of traditional Chinese popular songs, the strident tones delivering the age-old message of the community. It was now, as it had always been, a determination to contain the values of the past within the strictures of the present.
Cade spotted his quarry as in his haste the man collided with a battered delivery van, his handgun bouncing from his hand. He went down on his knees, searching for the weapon, but a passerby’s foot caught the auto-pistol and sent it skittering across the street. It slid under a parked car. Realizing he was wasting time, the man hauled himself to his feet, throwing a panicked glance at the tall lawman bearing down on him. He turned to run just as Cade reached him.
A big hand grabbed hold of his coat, pulling him back and bouncing him off the side of a passing car. The driver leaned out to protest, then decided against it when he saw the .357 in Cade’s hand.
The suspect was wild-eyed and charged up with adrenaline. He snatched for the switchblade he carried under his coat. He thumbed the button and the blade clicked into place.
‘Have a taste of this!’ he yelled at Cade, lunging forward with the knife.
Cade hardly appeared to have moved.
His left fist, bunched into a hard ball, arced round in a vicious half circle. It connected with the suspect’s jaw. Blood spurted from torn lips. The suspect went down hard, bouncing as he hit the street.
Cade picked up the switchblade and closed it. He dropped the weapon into his pocket before he bent over the dazed man and yanked him to his feet, then propped him against the side of the delivery van.
The man stared at him through glazed eyes. His mouth was slack, dribbling blood.
At the sight of blood, whispers and complaints started up from the crowd that had started to close around them.
Cade pulled out his leather badge-holder and held it up where everyone could see it.
‘Justice Marshal,’ he announced. ‘This is an arrest. Everyone, keep moving on.’
The jostling crowd quieted and began to break up. The Justice Marshals, as they had been quickly tagged after their inception, had a tough reputation, and they backed it with hard action against anyone who interfered with their business.
Cade holstered his gun and pulled a pair of plasti-cuffs from his pocket. He snapped them on the suspect’s wrists.
‘You could have made this easy on both of us,’ Cade said. ‘I got better things to do than chasing dope-heads like you all over New York.’
The man merely stared at him, his face expressionless.
‘You going to tell me you want your rights read?’ Cade asked. ‘No chance. This cop doesn’t play by NYPD rules. Couple of days, and you’ll be on your way to the Mars Project for a stretch.’
Awareness fired the man’s eyes. He swallowed hard, then coughed as he tasted blood in his throat.
‘Maybe we can deal,’ he said, his eyes searching Cade’s for a reaction.
‘No deals.’
‘Yeah? But I can give you an earful ... real interesting stuff. Come on, man, I don’t need a vacation in space. You could recommend me for one of the farms. Huh? Am I right?’
The shrill sound of a NYPD patrol cruiser told Cade the local police were on their way. He could see the flashing roof light moving slowly along the street.
‘Well?’ Cade prompted.
‘Make a deal first,’ the suspect pleaded.
‘Don’t stretch your luck, pal,’ Cade warned. He pulled a battered pack of thin cigars from his inside pocket. Lighting up, he glanced at the suspect. The man was sweating heavily, breathing noisily through his nose. He spit blood from his battered mouth.
‘I got information about the missing Darksiders,’ he said.
Cade frowned. ‘What missing Darksiders? Don’t feed me some made-up fool’s story. I don’t have much patience this late in the day.’
‘Check with the local PD. The Darksiders have been vanishing for the last six months. Not just one or two - I’m talking big numbers.’
‘Where do you tie in?’
‘I don’t,’ the suspect said. ‘It’s just ‘cause I know the Darksiders. Used to spend some time with them when I was on the skids. I heard talk, and saw a couple of things. It’s no scam.’
The sleek shape of the armored patrol cruiser rolled to a stop alongside Cade.
The uniformed policemen climbed out. They were big, hard-eyed individuals, wearing regulation body armor.
‘Who the hell are you?’ demanded the lead man. His name tag identified him as Treat.
Not liking his attitude, Cade ignored him.
‘Hey, I asked a question.’
Cade sensed Treat’s partner moving in behind him. ‘Tell your partner to step out where I can see him,’ Cade said, allowing a hard edge to sharpen his words.
Treat smiled. His right hand dropped to the thick butt of the handgun holstered on his hip. He stared directly at Cade.
‘Doesn’t appear to me you’re in any position to make demands,’ he said.
‘Don’t make book on that,’ Cade said lazily, and showed Treat his badge. He enjoyed the dumb expression that filtered across Treat’s broad face. ‘Now tell your partner to make front and center before I do something we’ll all regret in the morning.’
Treat jerked his head. His partner walked around to join him. Cade repeated his badge trick. Treat’s partner was bigger and broader. He had a bristling mustache over his upper lip. He took a long look at Cade’s badge, shaking his head slowly.
‘I think you marshals are a crock of shit,’ he said.
‘Thinking like that could be harmful to your health, Dolan,’ Cade said, checking the cop’s name tag.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ Cade answered, then shrugged and changed the subject.
‘You know him?’ Cade asked, indicating his prisoner.
Treat nodded. ‘Bernie Stenner. Part of the local nightlife, and a dedicated dope-head. Into every dirty deal going. All small-time stuff.’
‘Well, Bernie has graduated to bigger things,’ Cade said. ‘I just busted Bernie and his friends doing a deal with stolen auto-weapons.’
He indicated the alley across the street.
‘One of Bernie’s partners is in there. You’ll find more in the old warehouse at the far end. There’s a Buick Rocket inside with a trunk full of guns that came in from Canada. I want you to call in and get a crew down here. Close off the warehouse and have your people go over the car. See what else they can pick up from it.’
‘What about him?’ Treat asked, jerking a thumb at Bernie.
‘Just book him at the station,’ Cade said. ‘I want to talk to him later. We’re developing a real relationship, right, Bernie?’
Stenner nodded unhappily, staring down at the ground between his feet.
‘You need me, I’ll be in the warehouse,’ Cade said. ‘I want to check out my partner.’
He made his way across the street and along the alley. He didn’t even bother to look at the motionless figure of the man he’d dropped in the alley. Cade knew he was dead.
He stepped bac
k inside the warehouse and hurried across to the abandoned car.
The trunk was still open. A tall figure was bending over it, examining the contents. ‘You get those two I sent you?’ Cade asked.
His partner straightened up as Cade neared the car. His eyes were fixed on the cigar Cade was smoking. He didn’t say anything, but then, he didn’t have to. The message, the annoying message, was all too clear.
Irritation soured the taste of the cigar.
Cade snatched it from his lips and tossed it to the ground.
‘You do that every time,’ he said. ‘I just start enjoying one of the damn things, and you do it every time.’
‘Do what, T.J.?’
‘Don’t play innocent with me, Janek,’ Cade said. ‘You give me that goddamn look. That full-of-pity expression.’
‘Please yourself,’ Janek snapped. ‘Burn out your lungs if you want.’ He pointed to the rear of the warehouse. ‘The two suspects who eluded you are down there. One’s dead. The other merely unconscious. I cuffed him.’
‘Read them their rights?’ Cade asked with undisguised sarcasm.
‘That would have proved a futile exercise,’ Janek said stiffly. ‘The dead one’s past caring. The other one was unconscious at the time.’
Cade repressed a grin, then turned away slightly to conceal his amusement.
But Janek hadn’t been fooled. ‘Did I say something to amuse you, Thomas?’ he asked. He only used Cade’s full name when he was annoyed.
Cade didn’t reply. Instead he moved to the Buick’s trunk and gazed down at the stacked Uzi Model-4oos. The powerful auto-weapons, capable of terrible rates of fire and fitted with laser sights, were banned from private ownership. They were prized weapons, much sought after by the criminal fraternity, and like anything banned, they had gained notoriety. Headquarters had picked up information of a shipment coming in from Canada. Cade and his partner had been assigned to the case.
They had followed the shipment in from Canada down to New York, to the point of delivery.
‘Enough weaponry there to start a small war,’ Cade said quietly. ‘If we left these street gangs to themselves, they’d wipe themselves out. The problem is they’d take half New York with them.’
