Dead Mann Running (9781101596494) (25 page)

No such luck. The engine wouldn’t start. The V-shaped cavity in the hood where the car had hit the support beam had done more than ruin the finish.

I jumped from the driver’s seat as the first squad cars crunched to a halt. Car doors opened, feet hit asphalt. I’d never get Booth out of here before they spotted us. But these were Fort Hammer police, not mercs or rentals, men who knew and worked with him, bullshit charges or not. They may not have much love for me, but they wouldn’t hurt their head of homicide without hearing him out first. He’d be arrested, but they wouldn’t shoot him.

Leaving Booth in the passenger seat, I scuttled into the dark, nearly tripping over one of the fallen snipers. That, it turned out, was a lucky break. With his night-vision goggles and headset staring me in the face, I realized how handy they might be. Yanking them off his head, I hustled out through an open space in the wall that used to be a window.

Outside, it was pitch-dark and I was dead, so I managed to put six or seven warehouses between myself and the police without much trouble. I looked back every few seconds to make sure I wasn’t being followed. I had no idea how many groups were after me now. The shadows could be filled with everything from balding pederasts to Mouseketeers, all eager for the secrets of Travis Maruta’s final project.

Satisfied as I could get that I was alone, I plopped myself on the ground by a sputtering streetlamp to have a look at my new toy. The easy part was figuring out what the headpiece was for. I slipped it on and lowered the goggles over my eyes. After poking the sides in search of
a button, I found one, pressed it, and heard the high-pitched whine of powering electronics. The unseen world lay revealed before me, etched in gross browns and sickly greens.

There were readings alongside the image, numbers and abbreviations, a menu. A spot right under the button near my right temple, moved a highlight around. Hoping it worked like a mouse, I put the bright green box on the word “
COM
” and double-clicked. What do you know? Maybe some things really are idiot-proof.

A voice came through the headset, electronically altered just like my old buddy the toad. “Have you secured the goods?” it said.

“You bet. Project Birthday is all wrapped up with a ribbon and a nice card. What name should I put on it?”

“Hessius Mann. You have quite a knack for survival.”

It
was
the toad. “Yeah, wish I’d had it before the execution.”

“I assume this means more of my men are dead. Pity. I paid a great deal for them.”

“Really? I figured they were ChemBet.”

“They were. That’s why I had to pay extra. Did they put up a good fight?”

“The best. Technically, second best, otherwise they’d still be alive. You’re probably not going to believe this, but the ninja got them.”

The air had been quiet, but at that moment an icy breeze swept along the sidewalk. It made me wonder if Penny had already realized the case was empty, and had doubled back.

“Oddly, I am inclined to believe you,” the toad said. “I’ve seen the footage from your office.”

“That on YouTube already?” I looked up and down the street. A targeting cursor in the goggles zeroed in on some movement—a rat meandering around a trash can. Pretty cool.

“You still don’t know who I am, do you?”

I kept looking. “I’ve narrowed it down. You’re not Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. But if you want to just tell me, don’t let me stop you.”

“Who has the briefcase?”

No need to lie about that at least. “The ninja.”

“Pity. He’s the only one in this whole situation I’ve been unable to track.”

He.
So he didn’t know who Penny was. Hell, I didn’t know who she was.

“Must be frustrating.”

“Oh, there’s more than enough data coming in to keep me busy. For instance, right now, I see that you’re sitting behind warehouse G3.”

I snapped my head left and right. How the fuck could he see me? They didn’t bother putting security cameras down here. I looked up and saw the source of the breeze, a small plane, mixing with the clouds. Apparently they’d added a few pages to the army surplus catalog since last I checked.

“It’s an older-model military drone, an MQ-1, if you’re curious. With the press of a button, I could patch the video feed to the police, or ChemBet security. They have two…no, three cars in the area. With the press of another button, I could have it fire a Hellfire missile at you.”

“Button, button, who’s got the button?” I stood, planning to bolt. A dot appeared on my chest, rendered green by the goggles, but I had to figure it was red—a laser site
from the drone. Acid, fire, and D-cap I had figured. What would be left of me after a missile strike? The temperature of the blast might take care of me, and even if it didn’t there was a good bet that whatever remained wouldn’t be talking much.

“I doubt you’d tell ChemBet, especially after you stole their men. The police, maybe, if you’re the guy who has Kagan in his pocket. Then again I got away from them once. I really wouldn’t use the missile, though.”

“Why not?”

“Same reason your boys shouldn’t have been shooting at us back on Essex Street.”

“You said the ninja had the vials.”

“I said the ninja had the briefcase. Seems they got separated.”

The little light on my chest disappeared. “So you either have them, or you’re smart enough to lie about it. You fascinate me. You always have. If you’re telling the truth, I want you to bring the vials to me.”

I laughed, nice and clear so he’d understand. “After what your dogs did to Chester and Misty? No way in fucking hell.”

“I’m truly sorry about what happened to Officer O’Donnell and your assistant. But, to be fair, every man I’ve sent after you is dead. And from all appearances, you killed one with an axe.”

“I slipped. Besides, I’m not seeing the moral equivalent between slaughtering innocents and protecting them. Then again, I’m a little slow these days.”

“Protecting. Interesting that people can still be so special to you. I could help you find your assistant, get her into the best treatment program in the country.”

“If you didn’t shoot her first.”

The toad sounded offended. “I’m not Rebecca Maruta.”

“That makes three people you’re not. Want to tell me why you want this crap so badly? You one of the assholes who think it’s Kyua?”

Silence. I looked over my shoulder, trying to see if there was a quick way to get into the building behind me. Even if the drone had infrared that could detect a warm liveblood inside, it wouldn’t see me once I was out of sight.

I was going to make a move when the toad said, “There’s someone here I’d like you to speak with. Someone else I believe is special to you.”

Did they bring my dog back, too?

There was a slight crackle as the voice filter came off.

A low, diffident voice said only, “Hello.”

I recognized her immediately. “Nell?”

“Yeah. He…no…
we
want to invite you to dinner to talk things over. And yeah, he knows you don’t eat, so I guess it’s some kind of metaphor.”

Despite playing word games with him, halfway through the conversation I was pretty sure who the toad was. Now it was an existential certainty, cold and absolute as an uncaring god. It was Nell Parker’s owner, Colby Green. That’s why Penny’s description of the shooters sounded so familiar. Green’s men dressed like the crooks from
Reservoir Dogs
. I’d even been calling them dogs again without making the connection.

“Has Green got a gun on you? A chain saw?”

“Not exactly, but I can’t get away right now. It’d be nice to talk to you. I haven’t seen you for a while.”

“Not since you got me out of jail by selling yourself back to Caligula.”

“I thought I was doing you a favor. Don’t ask me why.”

“Nell, I…”

She cut me off. “You’ve got two choices, come have dinner, or run as fast and far as you fucking can and get out of the country. Up to you.”

She handed the phone back to Green. He didn’t bother putting the voice filter back on. “Well?” he said.

“What’s to keep you from cutting me up to get me to talk?”

He laughed. “You’d go feral. I’m surprised you haven’t already.”

“Okay, I’ll be there,” I told him.

“I’ll send a car to Lydig and Brenner. Should take you half an hour to walk there. I’ll let you know if you’re being followed. If you need directions, follow the drone.”

I slapped the side of my head, severing the connection.

N
ell Parker. For weeks I’d been staring at her on the tube, pretending I wasn’t feeling anything for her. The vibrations rattling my chest told me otherwise.

Damn.

I think I’d gotten over the fact that she went back to Green. What I hadn’t gotten over was the fact that with a bomb about to bring an abandoned hospital down around us, I’d pressed my lips against hers. She thought I was nuts. So did I. Chakz are supposed to be in a state of perpetual sexual neutrality. There were plenty of chakz backing that up, selling their bodies to livebloods without so much as a shrug. But “supposed to” is a funny phrase. A D-cap is
supposed to
kill us. Arms aren’t
supposed
to
wander on their own.

The drone came out of its holding pattern and headed east. I followed below, my body listing on my Frankenstein ankle. It was hurting again. A glance at my hand showed some exposed knuckle bone from the beating
I’d given Booth. I’d lost count of how many bullet holes I had in me.

Bad as my body was, the real pain was that I hadn’t realized the toad was Colby Green in the first place. Who else had the power or the perverted fascination? Everything about chakz fascinated him. Were we really alive? Did we have a soul? What happens if you tug on that piece over there? Not in a Lady Maruta sense. He was more into stroking than cutting.

I used to think ChemBet at least knew what we were, that they fed the world a line of BS to keep the rubes from panicking. Having seen their files, I now knew they didn’t. No one did, not really. That’s why Colby liked us. To him, we were the last challenge in a world that had otherwise grown boring.

A man’s reach-around should exceed his grasp, right? And his fingers were in every orifice Fort Hammer had to offer, real and metaphorical. He had as much influence with the governor as ChemBet did, maybe more, given the chak pleasure palace he ran and the photos he kept of his guests.

The streetlamp at the corner of Lydig and Brenner was working well enough, and Green’s limo driver was smart enough to park out of its light. When I came up and rapped on the window, he had an e-reader balanced in front of him showing some local news. A bloated guy with a beard, he was the sort who had trouble squeezing his gut under the steering wheel, even with the seat all the way back. If I startled him, he didn’t move very fast. More like I was interrupting his break.

When he opened the door, the smell of flatulence wafted out. It was maybe forty outside, but he had the air-conditioning
turned up full to hide it. Good thing I didn’t have to breathe. I slid in, bones cracking as I settled into the deep upholstery.

When the driver was back at the wheel, I asked, “Anything on the chak rebellion?”

His narrowed eyes found me through the rearview. “Why? Which side you on?”

Christ, whichever side eats you, pal. “Neither. Don’t want to see anyone hurt.”

He grunted. “They say the guard’s got it under control.”

Right. I remembered the liveblood panic when a single skeleton was loose in Buell Park. The police were using elephant guns for a mosquito and they still couldn’t hit it. The guard was the same, only with less college required.

The fastest way to Colby’s zip code was through town, so I’d soon see for myself. I figured it was over before it’d gotten started. The suburbanite with the gun was just paranoid and trigger-happy.

Within twenty minutes, though, we passed some searchlights and stiff-backed guardsmen. There were no rioting dead I could see, so this was all show to keep the LBs calm. Calm about what?

In the retail district, things were a little more exciting. A major box store was in flames, its windows smashed, black smoke curling against the dark interior. Figures faded in and out among the aisles like tricks of light. They were chakz, moving as fast as they could, meaning not very. I spotted one carrying a flat-panel TV. Dead men looting, now there’s something you don’t see every day.

I was a little surprised there weren’t more ferals around, but the big orange-and-black detour signs likely took us around the main action. Once we were on the road that followed the train tracks, there was nothing to see. The rest of the ride was a quiet forty minutes.

Green kept his sanctuary safe through a combination of distance and clever landscaping, though it seems an insult to call rerouting a river and planting a few acres of new forest landscaping. You can’t even see the wall surrounding his property until you’re practically on top of it.

Front gates that could stop a tank opened noiselessly, but we weren’t there yet. The winding driveway went on half a mile before the mansion came into view. It was huge, but a gangly chimera, a little of this, a little of that, like it never could decide which style it belonged to.

All in all, I hadn’t worried about Nell’s health while she was with Green, especially since she’d become a TV star. Sure, he’d sold her to a serial killer to get back some incriminating photos, but how often does that kind of situation come up? Experience had since proven there were worse fates for a chak than being the favored pet of an überwealthy reprobate.

Not that I’d call Green compassionate. He’d hold big festivals with scores of chakz, then let them go feral after they’d outlived their usefulness. He even helped the process along by locking them in a pen in his ample basement, but there are monsters, and there are monsters. At least he didn’t cut them up.

The limo stopped out front, the entrance for honored guests, which I’d used by accident during my first visit. The driver idled the car, but didn’t look like he planned on getting up. I let myself out.