Starfist: Hangfire (28 page)

"How come we can't stop at Placetas?" Claypoole asked.

"Too dangerous. The city's the mob's territory. It'll be crawling with agents and security goons anxious to make a big bonus for being the first to spot us. I figure we can coast by in the dark, open her up on the other side of the city, and make the ocean by dawn."

"We're supposed to meet our contact at the Free Library at six hours tonight," Pasquin protested.

"Once our contact hands over the evidence the Ministry of Justice needs, we can call in plenty of firepower. Put these families out of business and you'll be in business, Mister O'Mol."

O'Mol shook his head. "No can do. Too dangerous, I said. They'll get you for sure if you go into the city."

"Not if we have these." Dean patted his blaster.

"Mister Dean, if you go into the city, you will have to use it there. Do you really want to take a chance on burning up innocent bystanders with that thing?"

"Hell, they all work for the mob," Claypoole protested.

"No, they don't, Mister Claypoole," O'Mol answered forcefully. "I could have launched a terrorist campaign all over this planet, blown up hotels and casinos, all that. The reason I didn't was because Mom and Pop Citizen who come here for a vacation may be fools to spend their life's savings like this, but they don't deserve to get roasted in a crossfire between the good guys and the bad guys. You understand what I'm saying?"

Claypoole looked at his feet. "I have to go back in," he said quietly. He looked up at O'Mol. "I said I'd work for you, but you promised to get Katie out of there. I won't help you unless you let me get her and bring her to the islands with us."

"But the whole situation has changed! We're on the run now! Sticks'll be looking for us! Claypoole, he'll round up everyone who even smiled at us and interrogate them to find out if they know our plans. It's standard mob procedure. They probably have already snatched the girl. And if they don't keep her, they'll put a watch on her in case you show up." He looked to Dean and Pasquin for support, but they said nothing.

"I will not go unless you let me get Katie and bring her out to the islands with us. That's final."

"We haven't agreed to work with you, Mister O'Mol," Pasquin said.

"You have to now! I'm your only chance to get out of here alive!"

"We have to make contact with our agent in Placetas," Dean said.

O'Mol drained his beer and threw the bottle over the side. "I normally hate litterbugs," he said, apropos of nothing, "but screw it." He belched into the palm of his hand and regarded the three in the semidarkness. "Boy, you guys are sure stubborn." He shook his head. "Okay, Claypoole, I'll drop you off at the docks. How long will it take you to find the girl and get back to the river?"

"Jesus H. Mohammed, how the hell do I know?" he protested "I know where she lives. I'll move as quickly as I can. I suppose I can get a cab at the docks?"

"Get a cab!" O'Mol exploded "I can't believe any of this," he moaned.

"Can't you call someone in the city and have them pick Rachman up at the docks?" Pasquin asked.

"Yes, I can. But I can't do that until we're there. They'll be monitoring all telecommunications systems now. For all I know, whoever told them I was at that safe house also compromised my people back in Placetas. I have people in other cities too, but the Placetas cell was the strongest and most active. That man you killed back there was one of my most trusted assistants. I have to assume now that my whole organization's been infiltrated, or the reward they have out on me is so great even my best friend would be tempted to turn me in. We may have to fight our way out. You'll just have to forget about contacting your controller. There's no way you can do that without getting caught. He'll just have to wait for another time. How do you contact him, by the way?"

"All we can do is send a signal we're ready, and he'll home in on us, but we can't give him the sign without the evidence he sent us here to get. Can you infiltrate us back into the city once things have had a chance to quiet down?"

"Yes. Who's your contact?"

Pasquin hesitated only briefly. "Lovat Culloden." They were in too deeply with O'Mol now to play games with each other or hold things back.

"Culloden!" O'Mol whispered in amazement. "Okay, here's the deal. I'll get someone to pick Claypoole up at the docks. We'll wait for him there. If we're discovered, we have the firepower to hold the attackers off. But it might get very, very hot. If we make it to the islands, I'll get you back into the city somehow—I don't know how right now—so you can get in touch with Culloden. I mean, damn, if I can help make your mission a success, I win, because you'll remove the family heads for me. You Marines are a godsend, if you don't somehow screw this up on me. You agree?"

"I agree," Claypoole said at once.

"Okay, I guess we don't have any choice," Pasquin put in. "Dean, what do you say?"

"Well, the man on the spot has the tactical initiative. Good plans allow for that and Marines have to be flexible. We change the plan. We have to change it. I'm with Mister O'Mol."

O'Mol blew out his breath and smiled. "Now that that's settled, let's drink up the rest of this beer."

O'Mol quietly nosed the hydrofoil into a slip at the marina at the Franklin River Docks. Pasquin gave him a quick orientation on how to use a blaster and they took up a 360-degree defensive position.

"You will need something," O'Mol told Claypoole. He handed him a small pistol. "This is a Sig-Walther semiauto. You load it by pulling back the slide and—"

Claypoole pressed the magazine catch and dropped the magazine into his hand. Quickly he thumbed ten rounds into the palm of the other hand and pulled back the slide several times to be sure there wasn't a round in the chamber. "You ought to carry this thing with one up the spout, ready for immediate fire,"

he advised O'Mol. Then he reloaded the magazine, rammed it into the butt, and racked a round into the chamber. "Double action?" he asked. O'Mol nodded. "Good. I'm off." He climbed up onto the dock and began walking toward the street.

"Where did he ever learn to handle a projectile weapon like that?" O'Mol asked, impressed.

"Place called Wanderjahr. It's a long story," Dean said.

A car in the street flashed its lights once. O'Mol's agent was ready.

Nobody had said anything about how long they would wait for Claypoole, but Pasquin and Dean didn't intend to leave without him. If he wasn't back by dawn, they would go into the city and get him.

O'Mol knew enough not to argue about it.

A woman was driving. "Take me to 134A Bilko Strand," Claypoole announced as he climbed into the passenger's seat. Claypoole glanced at her as she put the car into drive. She had a hard face, and the dim light did not improve it much. He realized suddenly her tight-lipped expression was one of fear, not anger at being called out on a night like this. "Piece of cake," he said easily, hoping to break the tension. She did not respond. They turned into a major thoroughfare leading into Center City. Claypoole realized with a sudden twinge of fear that Katie's apartment was in the suburbs on the far side of the city. They'd have to go all the way through town and then back again. Nervously, he fingered the pistol in his pocket.

"You armed?" he asked the driver.

"Yes." She stared ahead at traffic, which was quite heavy at this hour, even in the rainy season.

"What do you do for a living?" Claypoole asked the question in the hopes of getting her to relax by talking about something familiar.

"I drive this taxi." She shifted her position to get more comfortable. "I know where you're going, I live in the same neighborhood, a place on Cramden Square. Who are we picking up? The message just said I was to drive you somewhere."

"A girl I know. Then we go back to the docks on the riverfront."

The woman looked at Claypoole anxiously. "That'll work if they don't make us, but if they do, we'll never get back through the city."

"Yes, we will," Claypoole replied with a confidence he didn't feel. "My name's Lance Corporal Rachman Claypoole, Confederation Marine Corps. What's yours?"

"Grace."

"Okay, Grace, we're gonna pull this off. Relax. But be prepared. I don't know if Katie'll be home. If she isn't, we're gonna have to go down to where she works and get her there. Just take it easy and act naturally. I presume you can use whatever weapon you're carrying? Good. If we do have a fight, aim at the center of mass and squeeze off your shot.You know this town, do you?"

"Like the back of my hand."

"Well, be thinking about alternate routes and all that, just in case we gotta get a move on. Otherwise, you're a taxi driver and I'm your fare." He settled back in his seat and Grace grinned over at him. "Grace, we get back to the docks in one piece, can you come with us? We need every hand we can get. Can you jump out of here without any advance notice?"

"Damn right," she replied. Claypoole smiled in the dark.

Katie's apartment was on the ground floor of a two-story complex on a pleasant suburban street.

Claypoole had Grace park a block from Katie's door, so he could approach on foot. "If you hear any shooting, I'm gonna need your help real quick, Grace. I can rely on you, can't I?"

"I'll pull up in front of the apartment and you get your ass in here real quick, Marine." Now that they were well into the mission, her initial anxiety had disappeared, replaced by a cool professionalism.

It was raining as Claypoole sauntered down the street, trying to look like he belonged. He stepped under the overhang and tapped the Query button on the entry keypad. Nothing. He tapped again. Still nothing. Uncertain what to do next, he stood there. Maybe Katie was working. He tapped the keypad a third time, leaving his finger on the bell icon for a full ten seconds. Nothing. He turned to go just as the heavens opened up and dumped water on the city.

"Yeah?" a man's voice said from behind him. Through the privacy screen in the doorway he could see only a dim outline of someone on the other side.

"Is Miss Wells in?' " Claypoole shouted over the downpour.

"Yeah, but she's busy. Go 'way."

"Excuse me, but I just gotta see her! I'm her brother and we've got a family emergency going. Just ask her to step outside for a second, will you?"

The privacy screen turned transparent. A very big man stood there. "She ain't got no brother, you stupid—"

"Hey hey! One question, man, okay?"

"Be quick, asshole." From inside came a muffled scream.

"Can you run 350 meters in one second?"

"You wiseass—" The man reached over to reactivate the privacy screen as Claypoole shot him between the eyes. The shot was muffled in the roar of the downpour. The big man spun around and then slowly fell over backward through the doorway. Claypoole stepped over him into the apartment. Another very large man had Katie pinned to the floor. As soon as he saw Claypoole, he slammed Katie's face into the floor to stun her, then stood up, reaching inside his coat as he rose.

Claypoole shot the man in the center of his chest.

"Goddamn!" he exclaimed, looking down at the fist-sized dent in the vest he wore beneath his coat.

"You bastard! I'm really gonna kick your ass now!" He staggered toward Claypoole, who back pedaled until he almost fell over the corpse in the doorway. He raised the barrel and fired again, hitting the man in the mouth, taking out his lower front teeth before exiting through his upper jaw, just in front of his left ear.

The man clapped a hand to his face and grunted. He stood there, blood streaming through his fingers.

Carefully, Claypoole aimed his gun at the center of his forehead.

Katie slammed a heavy chair onto the top of the man's head and he collapsed to the floor.

"Sonofabitch!" she swore. Her face was bloody and one eye was almost swollen shut. She was breathing hard. "He didn't hit me hard enough," she gasped.

Claypoole decocked the pistol and put it away. He had seven shots left. He grabbed Katie by the shoulders. "We gotta leave, now, Katie! These guys were after me, weren't they?"

Katie nodded. "They said they're rounding up everyone who's had anything to do with you since you've been here. What's going on? They wouldn't tell me."

"I'll tell you later. Come on, don't bother to grab anything." He propelled her toward the open doorway. The rain was coming down in sheets outside now and it hit them like a huge hand as they stumbled out onto the sidewalk. At that moment two cars roared up and slammed to a stop almost in front of them.

Claypoole pulled Katie away from where Grace was parked, because the cars blocked his way in that direction, and they ran as fast as the fear of death could carry them. Something went crack! beside his head, and Claypoole felt a very uncomfortable sensation in the small of his back. Anticipating the hammer blow of a bullet at almost any second, he looked back. They were coming on fast, stopping only to snap off a few shots, which fortunately were going wild. Suddenly the rain stopped.

"I can't run any faster!" Katie gasped. Claypoole grabbed her by an arm and pulled her along with him.

They reached the end of the building and, without hesitating, Claypoole ran around it, putting the edge between them and their pursuers. Three of them doubled back to go around the opposite end of the building and cut them off. Claypoole dragged Katie behind the building with him.

A man leaned around the edge of the building and fired three quick shots. They sounded loud, now that the rain had stopped Could Grace have heard them? Katie crouched beside Claypoole, panting to get her breath. Behind them was a chain-link fence about two meters high. "What's on the other side of that fence?"

"Another complex," Katie gasped.

"Let's go!" They ran for the fence. Claypoole boosted Katie up and gave her a massive shove that sent her sailing over the top. She plunged to the ground on the other side, splashing into an enormous puddle.

Claypoole scrambled up after her. Shouts and the thud of feet sounded behind him. Crack! Spang!

Crack! Bullets whistled all about him. He felt an impact through the links in the fence but none came near him. Then, abruptly, it began to rain again. He was over now and on the ground on the other side.