A Toaster on Mars (7 page)

Can't be that famous
, she thought.
I've never heard of it.

Blake wasn't here. Unless the clam chowder had killed him and Harry had tossed his body out the back with the other unfortunate victims of the house special.

‘What's your most popular drink?' she asked.

‘The Einstein Converter.'

‘I'll have one of those.'

Harry placed his hands on the edge of the bar and gave her a steely look.

‘We don't serve your kind here,' he said.

‘And what kind is that?'

‘Robots.'

Nicki glanced around at the patrons. Most looked like they were on day release from maximum-security. She could tell a few were on an illegal drug called blue—their eyes had turned indigo from it. One guy looked like he hadn't slept since the Renaissance. She was sure they were all packing; everyone down here carried something made to shoot, stab, bludgeon or melt.

She was about to say something really clever about humans looking like monkeys when a chair came flying across the room, slamming her in the head. Two men attacked her simultaneously, one with a metal pipe, the other with a laser-knife. Nicki managed to deflect the pipe, twisting the guy's arm into a position it was never designed for, but she wasn't quick enough for the knife, and it cut through her skirt.

Now she was angry.

‘That skirt's from Antonio Amorelli! And they don't come cheap.'

Nicki snapped the knife as three more guys leapt at her, taking her down. Through the maze of arms and legs she saw a dozen other patrons moving in for the kill.

She knew that if she murdered someone, it was not only immoral but that it could get you into lots of trouble. Then there was the paperwork.

But hurting? Well, that was
very
allowed.

Nicki swept out her leg and knocked two of the guys off their feet. She rolled, grabbed a chair and inserted it into another's face. He fell back, bleeding and screaming, as Nicki jumped to her feet, picked up another guy and threw him over the bar. He landed in the drinks display at the back, shattering every bottle on the shelf.

Another chair whizzed through the air towards her, but she caught it and hit three more guys with it before ramming two others.

Finally, she picked off the last assailant—Renaissance man—lifting him onto the bar and giving him a good push. He slid down it, his head destroying a framed picture of Harry that looked like it had hung there for twenty years.

The remaining patrons disappeared like cockroaches stung with bug spray, leaving only herself, Harry and the man on the dance floor, who had continued his tango despite his robot partner's head getting knocked off during the fight.

Nicki looked at her outfit. Apart from the tear, three different drinks had also splashed her skirt. And she had pulled a thread!

Sprot!

Harry was pale. ‘We don't want no trouble here,' he stammered, not so big now his place had been reduced to rubble. ‘I didn't mean no disrespect.'

‘Sure, you didn't,' Nicki said. ‘Now hand over that Einstein Converter.'

Harry mixed the drink with shaking hands and placed it on the bar.

Nicki drank it down in one smooth action and licked her lips.

‘Reerlla,' she said. ‘Ssamggghra.'

Which was not surprising, as this was a perfectly normal reaction to drinking an Einstein Converter.

Nicki shuddered.
Might have burnt out a few servos there
, she thought.

‘That's suitable for human consumption,' she said, ‘but only just. You could probably use it to clean fission drums.'

‘They use it for that down the road.'

Nicki slid some money across the bar. ‘Enough socialising,' she said. ‘Where's Blake Carter?'

Now Harry looked scared.
Really
scared. ‘I don't know anyone by the name of Blake Carter,' he said, swallowing. ‘Honest.'

Nicki was about to get tough when she glanced down at a coaster. Her eyes narrowed.

‘The Lost Moon,' she read.

‘That's right.' A line of sweat had formed on Harry's upper lip, and he was gripping his dishtowel so tight his knuckles were white. ‘Please don't cause any more trouble. I'm sorry if—'

‘This place is the Lost Moon?'

Harry nodded.

‘So where's the Pink Hyperdrive?'

Harry pointed with a shaking hand. ‘Next door.'

‘Right.'

She strode over to the door, casting an eye across the damage.

‘If Blake Carter comes in here,' she called to Harry, ‘tell him I'm looking for him.'

‘I will,' Harry croaked. ‘What's your name?'

‘Bogart,' she said. ‘Humphrey Bogart.'

Nicki strode out, glancing at the sign feebly flashing over the doorway:
The Lost Moon
.

Next door was cleaner, but not by much. A few patrons sat around nursing their drinks, and an old television playing a dandruff commercial hugged a corner of the ceiling.

The barman looked identical to Harry, except happier, because his place was still in one piece.

Nicki found Blake wedged into a booth at the back. He looked like he'd slept there overnight. His bloodshot eyes widened when he saw her.

‘What're you doing here?' he demanded.

‘Just passing.'

‘Like sprot! How'd you find me?'

‘I rang your car.'

‘Traitor.'

‘Don't blame Sally,' Nicki said. ‘I would have found you anyway.'

‘This part of town isn't safe,' Blake said. ‘You should have heard the brawl next door. I thought they were going to come through the wall.'

‘Yeah,' Nicki said, glancing around uncomfortably. ‘It's a rough area.'

‘So what're you doing here?'

‘I was about to ask you the same question.'

‘I'm enjoying a quiet drink,' he said. ‘
Alone
.'

‘We should be tracking down Badde.'

‘You do that,' Blake said, staring into his glass. The Plutonium Supernova was a swirl of different colours. ‘I'm off the case and staying that way.'

Nicki ordered another Einstein Converter and sat down. ‘I thought you wanted to apprehend Badde,' she said. ‘That's how good agents operate.'

‘I
was
a good agent. That's behind me now.'

‘Is it because of Bailey Jones?'

There was sudden fury in Blake's eyes. ‘Leave her out of this!' he said, staring at the table. ‘You didn't know her.'

‘I know what happened,' Nicki said. ‘I know you and Bailey tracked Badde to Venus. I know you were on a volcanic plain surrounded by lava, pinned down by gunfire—'

‘I don't need to hear this.' Blake started to stand, but Nicki pushed him back down.

‘—and you fought your way through a dozen armed robots. But then there was an eruption and she was killed.'

10

Well
, Blake thought.
At least now it's out in the open.

‘She wasn't killed,' he growled, stirring his drink. ‘She was vaporised. Reduced to nothing. Ziltcho.' Slamming down his glass, he glared at Nicki. ‘Are you happy now? Do you think you're clever?'

‘I do actually, but that has nothing—'

Blake blanked out her voice. He had been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours: a hangover, a beating, a stint in hospital and his ex-wife had told him his daughter hadn't come home. And he had been kicked off the case he had worked on for years. Wasn't this a sign?

He had been an idealistic cop who had always fought the good fight. But that guy was dead. He had
spent a lifetime trying to hold back an avalanche, but it had caught up with him. There was no winning; there were only degrees of losing.

‘I'm quitting,' he said. ‘I've given all I can to the PBI. You can take over from here.' He struggled to his feet. ‘I'm finished.'

Nicki tried to call him back as he headed for the door, but Blake ignored her. Working for the PBI had cost him a lot, and it was time to move on. Leave the business of catching criminals to a younger generation, or to robot women, or whatever mutant freak they next grew in a lab.

Outside, the morning was cold. The lightheaded sensation from the Plutonium Supernovas was passing all too quickly; he would need to pick up a six-pack of beer on the way home.

His wristcomm rang as he reached his car.

‘Dad? It's me, Lisa.'

‘Lisa?'

She must really be in trouble if she was ringing him. What was it? Had she been arrested for stealing?
Sprot.
Maybe his theory about the boyfriend was true.

‘What's up?' he asked.

‘I'm in trouble.'

‘What is it?' he asked. ‘What's wrong?'

She gave a small cry as the phone was snatched away from her.

‘Nothing's wrong,' a man said. ‘Everything is going exactly to plan.'

‘Who is this?'

‘You know who this is.'

The answer came to Blake in a flash.

Badde.

Blake soon became aware of Nicki at his side; she must have trailed him onto the street, and she now looked at him questioningly. Blake mouthed the words
Trace this call
. At the same time, he pulled out a packet of Instant Sobers and tossed down two of the purple pills. His head cleared immediately, although for a moment he thought he was going to explode.

This makes no sense
, he thought.
Why would Badde have Lisa? Obviously he wants something. But what?

‘Badde,' he said, stalling for time. ‘We finally get to speak. I've waited for this moment for a long time.'

‘You have?'

‘How could I not want to speak to the man who robbed the bank on Rimus Prime? The casino on Delta Seven? Kidnapped the Karilian prime minister?'

There was a pause. ‘Uh, actually I didn't commit any of those crimes.'

‘But the gold bullion robbery on Oxidius Four—'

‘No, that wasn't me.'

‘And the diamond heist on Gelvis Minor—'

‘That was me!' Badde shouted, clearly relieved. ‘But those are minor achievements compared to my latest triumph.'

‘The Super-EMP?'

‘Indeed. This will cement me in the Hall of Fame as the greatest criminal of all time.'

‘Surely you wouldn't detonate the device.'

‘Crime is a form of art. Mere mortals such as yourself think in terms of good and evil. I am beyond that. Evil must be committed for evil's sake. And the title of history's greatest criminal hasn't been claimed in so long. Where are the Attilas, the Hitlers, the Babagandrionas? My goal is to be the most successful criminal in history. If you don't think I'll detonate the device, then try me.' He paused. ‘And then there's your daughter.'

‘Why have you got her?'

‘I need your help and I doubted you would willingly assist me,' Badde said. ‘You are familiar with Maria?'

‘The girl from the musical? She leaves the abbey and marries the Austrian guy?'

‘You know what I mean.'

Blake did know. He'd heard rumours for years about the most powerful computer virus ever developed. Maria could crack any firewall and scramble any operating system within minutes. GADO—the Global Arms Defence Organisation—had it classified top-secret, but things had a way of filtering through.

‘I want Maria and you're going to get it for me,' Badde continued. ‘If you contact your friends at the PBI, you'll never see Lisa again.'

‘You harm Lisa and I'll feed you to a Rastarian dragon!'

‘You'll do exactly what I say,' Badde said. ‘Or your daughter will suffer a fate worse than death.'

Blake expected the next sound to be Lisa's screams, but instead he heard something far more horrible, far more insidious. Even Blake could not believe Badde would stoop to such evil.

‘Here's the story, of a lovely lady, who was bringing up three very…'

‘That's right,' Badde said. ‘I have the entire box set of
The Brady Bunch
and I'm prepared to use them.'

‘No!'

‘Even the telemovies.'

Not the telemovies
, Blake thought.
No one could survive the telemovies.