At least he had some extra resources at his disposal. He’d carefully selected a useful substance or two to ingest before he left his hideout. No jazz this time—he didn’t know how long he’d be wandering about, and he couldn’t afford to crash while the battle was still going on. The Welsh mercury focus was constantly in his hand, and he’d been invisible since the moment he left his house. That didn’t mean he didn’t have to be cautious— he might be invisible to regular eyes, but technology could still draw a bead on him. He kept low, walked quietly, and looked for other houses he might be able to duck into for shelter. When he had a spare moment, he pried some boards loose from a couple of houses so he could dash into them if necessary.
The sun had completely set, and the only light came from the stars and the burning house to the west of Bannickburn. That worked against him—the low light didn’t affect how easily he could be spotted, since he was invisible, but it kept him from easily seeing anyone approaching him.
Gunfire sounded near the burning house, interspersed with the occasional louder pops of bigger guns, or possibly grenades. The body count had to be mounting out there—Bannickburn could only hope it was the right bodies.
He found a couple of places where he could sit for a few moments—the well of a basement window behind one house, a small spot behind a collapsed porch roof in front of another—but he never stayed put for long. No hiding place was so good that he couldn’t be spotted if he just sat there.
He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to know when things were over, so he could stop darting back and forth. The end of gunfire might be an indication, but he wouldn’t be sure which side had won, and he couldn’t just go blundering ahead. If he saw Jackie and Spindle cruising by in some car, that would be a very good sign. He could jump in the car and get out of here. Beyond those signs, though, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do except wait for a friendly face to save him.
He stayed mostly on Windswept Lane, running north and south, near the spot where they’d entered the development. Occasionally he ducked down a street called Serenity Place, but each time he took a step in that direction, the sound of gunfire immediately became louder. He never stayed down that street for long.
He was walking away from Serenity Place, back to the relative safety of Windswept Lane, when a voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Robert Lionel Bannickburn,” the voice said in a dead rasp. The orange glow from the west reflected off the smooth metal on the head of the man standing in the middle of the street. His skeletal grin was clearly visible.
It was pretty clear how Kader had spotted him—he probably had infrared vision in his cybereye—but Bannickburn had no idea how the man had snuck up on him like that. He considered dropping his invisibility so he could focus fully on Kader. but there could be other Finnigans around who didn’t see him as clearly as Kader did. He kept himself concealed.
“I know everything,” Kader said in his flat voice. “I know who you are. I know what you did to me at Gates. I even know what’s in that bottle in your hands.” Bannickburn didn’t know how Kader could know that— Jackie had only just found out, and only recently shared the news with him. “And if I know all this,” Kader continued, “you should know that there’s no way I can let you out of here alive.”
Kader had a gun in his right hand, a big one: an Eich-iro Hatamoto—a shotgun reworked into a big handgun. He could have pulled the trigger before he had spoken, and easily taken Bannickburn out.
But the blast from the Hamamoto would be too big. Kader couldn’t just put a bullet in Bannickburn’s head; the round from the Hatamoto would hit him everywhere, and could very well put a hole in the precious bottle of water. At least Bannickburn knew where Kader’s priorities were—the potential income from the bottle trumped, for now, Kader’s desire for fast and brutal revenge. That was something, he thought. Whatever else he did, he had to hold on to the bottle.
In fact, Bannickburn realized he had the advantage. Kader didn’t want to shoot him, but he had no problem shooting Kader. He aimed his gun and fired.
Kader moved with lightning speed. Dammit, Bannickburn thought helplessly as he watched his shot go wide. Wired reflexes to go with Kader’s cyberarm. Can’t be much human left in that body.
Kader charged toward Bannickburn’s right side, closing fast. Bannickburn unleashed a second wild shot, then dashed to his left. Whatever was going to happen, he didn’t want it to happen in the open street, where he’d be too easy for Kader’s henchmen to find.
There was a house to his left, at the corner of Windswept and Serenity, with a window devoid of glass on the south side. Bannickburn had taken a few of the boards out, and he’d be able to get in there easily if he could stay ahead of Kader.
He couldn’t. Kader hit him from behind, slamming into him like a train running over a penny. Bannickburn was flattened.
He dropped his gun, clutching both hands around the bottle of water as he fell. He cradled it as gently as he could as his arms skidded across the dirt yard. If he’d been on the street, the bottle might have burst open, but the dirt, though it scraped Bannickburn through his clothes, provided just enough cushion to keep the bottle whole.
Kader was on top of him, ready to pummel Bannickburn’s sides, when he paused. Bannickburn had a guess what the cause of the hesitation might be, but he didn’t stop to think about it. He scrambled ahead, out of Kader’s reach, and dashed toward the window.
He was almost inside when Kader caught him again, hands firmly grasping his ankle. Kader gave a twist, wrenching Bannickburn’s lower leg, and something in his knee popped. But then, once again, Kader’s grip briefly loosened, and Bannickburn scrambled inside.
Kader followed, walking cautiously, his movements not as fluid as before. His gun hung at his side, and the red glare of his artificial eye was like a laser cutting into Bannickburn. Kader took two steps back, carefully placed his gun by the window, and flexed his hands (which, when it came to his right cyberarm, was completely unnecessary), then strode forward to get the job done by hand.
Bannickburn backed away slowly. There was no way he could hold his own in a hand-to-hand fight with Kader. All he could hope to do was hold on long enough.
The floorboards groaned beneath Kader’s feet as he drew closer. Bannickburn only had about two meters between himself and the back wall, and he didn’t want to get pinned there. He had to move soon.
Kader put his right foot forward, and Bannickburn darted. He leaned down low, his knees barely above the ground, reaching for Kader’s leg, but the mafioso was too fast. His right arm swung around, hitting Bannickburn in the back of the head with an impact like a wrecking ball. Bannickburn saw stars, but he kept his legs moving, kept his arm outstretched, and he brushed Kader’s legs as he flew by. The force of Kader’s blow seemed to double Bannickburn’s speed, and soon he was across the room, hitting the wall and stopping. In front of him, a mere three meters away, was Kader’s gun.
He feinted toward the gun, but Kader wasn’t stupid— he’d moved toward the weapon as soon as Bannickburn had passed him. Bannickburn wouldn’t be able to reach it in time. Kader flinched as Bannickburn made his initial move, then Bannickburn changed direction, running toward Kader’s right side.
He didn’t want to get too close, since the blow from the cyberarm still rang in his head, but he needed to get another touch in. He brushed his hand against Kader’s chest, then passed him like a bull running by a matador.
He turned again, breathing heavily. Kader was lumbering toward him, but his speed had decreased. The metal half of Kader’s face remained, naturally, unchanged, but the left side showed a hint of confusion. He knew something was happening, but he didn’t know what yet.
Bannickburn knew he couldn’t let too much time go between touches, or the effect would wear off before it became strong enough. He was going to get pounded again, but he had to be aggressive.
He spread his legs into a wide stance, bent forward, holding his left hand out whil
e his right arm cradled the bottle of water. Kader didn’t bother to assume any kind of posture, but instead just walked forward to pound the daylights out of Bannickburn.
Bannickburn made another charge, hoping to brush by lightly again, but Kader wasn’t having any of it. He didn’t seem as quick as he had been outside, but he was fast enough. As Bannickburn reached out, Kader pivoted, raised his cyberarm, and brought it down like an ax, chopping into Bannickburn’s back. The elf fell hard, right arm tucked under him protecting the water.
Kader quickly followed his blow with a kick, a solid blow to Bannickburn’s ribs. Then he aimed a foot at Bannickburn’s head. Bannickburn raised his hand defensively, trying to jerk his head back, and at least kept the foot from hitting his skull. It made solid contact with his hand, though, and it felt like the steel toe of Kader’s boot passed right through his palm.
Bannickburn rolled, pain shooting through his head, knee, hand, and a few other parts that had been hit in all his scrambling around. Kader was slow to catch him, giving Bannickburn two full rolls, but then he was there. Another kick came to Bannickburn’s midsection, then Kader moved down to work with his hands. His first move was to take the water. Bannickburn tried to clutch it, but Kader easily slipped it from his grasp. He carefully placed it behind him, then turned back to Bannickburn and went to work.
Left to the kidneys. Right to the stomach. Left to the jaw. Bannickburn’s senses reeled, his arms flailed, hoping to make any sort of contact with Kader. He touched his arm, brushed his leg, but made no real impact.
Kader, oddly enough, seemed to be tiring. He stopped raining blows on Bannickburn for a moment, looking at his left arm with a puzzled expression. He looked like he wanted to take a step forward, but his feet didn’t come off the ground, and he had to drag them. Then he shrugged and aimed another blow.
It was another one to the face, near the temple. Bannickburn was down for the count. His vision went black.
He wasn’t out for long. He’d been unconscious plenty of times, and usually had a pretty good feel for how long it took him to wake back up. This time, it didn’t feel like much more than a minute.
He wasn’t being hit. That should have been a blessed relief, but all it really did was give his existing cuts, bruises, and other damage a chance to make their presence known. He hurt plenty, but nothing vital felt like it had been too badly damaged. If he lay still for another minute or two—maybe twenty—he might be able to move again.
He didn’t have twenty minutes. He started looking around.
Kader lay next to him in an odd tripod shape. The last punch had done the job—his body had completely frozen as he followed through on the blow. Left stiff, his unbalanced body had tilted forward until his head came to rest on the ground, his torso oddly pivoted from the punch he had thrown.
Bannickburn scooted to a sitting position and managed to see Kader’s left eye. It was alive and alert, puzzled and panicked.
“Witch’s Moss,” Bannickburn said, speaking through a mouthful of blood. He spat, and continued. “Every time I touched you, and you touched me, you got a little slower. Until this happened.”
He pushed himself backward until he was sitting against the cracked plaster wall of the room, then contemplated what to do. His first instinct was to kill Kader.
That would be the easiest thing to do. He could shoot him with the Hatamoto, or just keep touching him until the Witch’s Moss froze his lungs. After all, that’s what Kader would do to him—that’s what Kader had been about to do until the Witch’s Moss kicked in. So there were plenty of good reasons to finish him off.
Then Bannickburn sighed. The day he started doing something simply because he could was the day he finally gave up on who he once had been. He might as well go and get all cybered up, like Kader, because killing a man in cold blood, even an enemy like Kader, would mean giving up on ever being Robert Lionel Bannickburn, combat mage of legend, again.
He spied the water bottle behind the odd tripod that was Kader, and suddenly had an idea. He wasn’t going to take it anywhere or try to use it to bargain with anyone. He’d had enough of the mob. Kader came after him to get the water. Shivers betrayed him to get the bottle. No Mafia family would put up with him getting them into a bidding war over it. They’d just keep coming to kill him, and take it for themselves.
Best to be rid of it. Especially since he had the perfect receptacle for it in front of him.
He heaved himself to his feet and limped forward. He gave Kader a quick shove, and the mafioso rolled onto his side. Bannickburn thought he heard him grunt.
After some pushing and straining, he managed to get Kader in a sort of sitting position— his head against the wall, his back awkwardly sloping down to the floor. Bannickburn waited a few minutes until he saw one of Kader’s fingers twitch, then figured he could touch him again without killing him.
He pried open Kader’s mouth, then shuffled over to the water bottle. Kader watched him carefully, and Bannickburn could see the realization in his eyes. They hardened with murderous intent, but Bannickburn didn’t care. Soon most of this evening wouldn’t even be a memory.
He poured some of the water down Kader’s throat.
Reflexes took over in Kader’s body, and he swallowed, pushing the water into his stomach. Then Bannickburn poured some more. Then more. Then the bottle was empty.
He didn’t stay to watch Kader’s eyes, because he didn’t want to take a chance that Kader would see him after the drug was administered, and remember him. He wished he could have watched, though, to see the memory of the past twelve hours drain away. Kader’s knowledge of the contents of the bottle, of the identity of the man who had conned him at the Gates Casino, even of Bannickburn’s name, would all drift away. Of course, for all Bannickburn knew, Shivers would just go ahead and tell everything to Kader again, but, with any luck, Shivers was dead. For now, at least, Kader’s vendetta would be forgotten.
Bannickburn shuffled outside, taking Kader’s Hata-moto with him. As he staggered through the yard, the blue Mustang pulled up next to him. Bannickburn tried to raise Kader’s gun, but his arms had no life. The driver’s-side window lowered, and Bannickburn waited for a gun barrel to emerge.
Instead, he saw Spindle. “Get in here! Now!”
Bannickburn might have smiled, but he couldn’t really tell through all the swelling on his face. He moved as fast as he could, which felt slightly faster than an infant’s crawl.
Spindle stepped out of the car, moved her seat up, then pushed Bannickburn into the car when he reached the door. He fell onto the back seat and lay still.
“Robert?” It was Jackie’s voice. He turned his head to see her concerned face peering back at him over the passenger seat.
“Hi,” he said.
“Where’s the water?”
He might have smiled again. “Gone.”
“Does Kader have it?”
He would have laughed if it hadn’t felt like knives were stabbing his lungs. “Kind of.” He coughed. “The others?”
“Bailey’s dead,” she said. She didn’t sound too sad. “Cayman, X-Prime, and Kross are in a car that one of Bailey’s guys is driving. That guy and the motorcycle driver are the only ones of Bailey’s people that survived.”
“Kader’s? Jimmy’s?”
“We haven’t seen Jimmy,” Jackie said. “Maybe Bailey got him before he checked out. There are a couple other thugs running around, but not too many vehicles for them. I don’t think we’ll have much pursuit.” Bannickburn had some more questions, but they’d have to wait. The soothing rumble of tires on concrete, combined with his exhaustion and pain, sent him into unconsciousness.
29
In most of life, at least in Bannickburn’s experience, not being able to use your arms caused considerable difficulty and inconvenience. There was one circumstance, though, when it didn’t work out all that badly— when you had a beautiful young lady to wait on you.
“Jackie? Would you be so kind as to help
me with a sip of water?”
Jackie rolled her eyes. “This is what I get for not having straws in the house.” She walked over to him and held a cup to his lips. He smiled gratefully.
Thanks to the Witch’s Moss, he couldn’t move his arms. And thanks to the thick tape over his broken ribs, he couldn’t move his torso. His sprained knee kept him from walking, and the blows to his head kept him from keeping his eyes open for too long and letting in painful light. All he was suited for today was lying still and being served by Jackie. He could do that.
He knew he had to enjoy this respite while it lasted. Before long, both Kader and Martel might be looking for his hide. He’d have to be mobile soon. Just not now.
“Uh-oh,” Jackie said. Bannickburn opened his eyes. Trouble might be coming immediately.
“Kross is outside.”
Bannickburn lunged forward, then settled back into his reclined position as pain shot through his body. “What’s he doing?”
“Nothing. Leaning against a wall. Looking at his fingernails. Just waiting.”
Bannickburn sighed. “Would you mind wheeling me out?”
“Not at all,” Jackie said.
With her help, he moved from the couch to a wheeled armchair. She pushed him through one of her convoluted entrance paths out to the street.
Kross watched them approach. He showed no hint that he’d been in a firefight the day before. His gray suit pants were finely creased, his tie was perfectly knotted, and he looked calm and relaxed. Bannickburn hated him more than ever.
“Mr. Bannickburn,” Kross said. “Caporegime Shivers would like a word with you.”
“Caporegime?” Bannickburn asked.
Kross nodded.
“Well. Good for him. Tell him that I respectfully decline his invitation.”
“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” Kross said casually. “I’m not in much shape for a journey anywhere, and I’m not anxious to be anywhere alone with Shivers. You remember what he did to us, don’t you?”
Shadowrun 44 - Drops of Corruption Page 25
