A Hard Rain

by Dean Wesley Smith

  Two other walking dead had given the same treatment to the Luscious Bev and Mr. Data, leaving them all in the main area of the warehouse against the wall facing the large door.

  Dix knew that Mr. Data could break free at a moment’s notice, but the members of Cyrus Redblock’s gang standing guard prevented that. Both their guns stared at him like dark, round cat’s eyes, never blinking or turning away.

  Dix also worried that Mr. Riker and the others would stage an attack on the warehouse to rescue them. Too many good people might get hurt trying that. With luck, Riker and the rest would hold off and give him time to solve this.

  So they sat and waited, the rain pounding on the roof as Dix carefully, without being seen, worked to free his ties.

  The man who must have been Cyrus Redblock’s second in command appeared from down the stairs that led to Redblock’s office. He was followed by four others, all with guns drawn, as if someone might try to ambush them in the narrow staircase. After being killed once so far today, these guys were taking no chances.

  The thug in charge wore a dapper pinstriped suit and a brown fedora. His jaw was square and his nose looked like it needed punching. He held his hands behind him, as if starting a lecture to a room full of students. There were no signs in the suit of the bullet holes from earlier. Dix figured the guy was lucky at that. The suit must have set him back a pretty penny.

  The pounding of the rain faded to a constant background noise as the man approached his prisoners.

  “My name is Danny Shoe,” the guy said, stopping directly in front of Dix. His eyes were a deep blue and very intense. “So what’d ya do with da boss?”

  “We did nothing with him,” Dix said. “And you know that. Were we the ones who attacked you?”

  “Might have been your men,” Shoe said, brushing aside Dix’s answer like he was swatting at a fly.

  The other goons nodded like puppets all having the same string pulled from above.

  “Me and my men came here to offer to join forces with your boss,” Dix said, playing the hand that looked like it had the best chance of success. “Seems we was a little late.”

  He didn’t add the detail about all of them being dead just a short time before. No point in rubbing salt in old wounds, even if they were healed.

  “And why would da boss want ta join you?” Shoe asked. “He didn’t much like bein’ partners.”

  “To stop what you couldn’t stop,” Dix said, smiling at the blue-eyed guy standing in front of him. “Your boss getting snatched. Like I said, we was too late.”

  “You knew it was gonna happen?”

  Dix stared at the man, giving him his best how-stupid-are-you look. “Of course. The entire city knew. Where were you? Nappin’?”

  Dix glanced at Mr. Data and the Luscious Bev and winked.

  “More than likely they was out havin’ lunch when the word got passed,” Mr. Data said.

  “My mother even knew about it,” Bev said.

  Dix just shrugged at Shoe and kept staring at him.

  Now the guys with the guns seemed confused. Two of them actually turned and looked at their leader, clearly starting to think it was his fault Redblock had been snatched.

  Shoe snorted, again waving away Dix’s word with the back of his hand. “So who put the snatch on the boss?”

  “I don’t know,” Dix said. “Don’t you? You was here, wasn’t ya?”

  “Didn’t see much of anything,” the guy said. “Happened fast.”

  “Like an inside job?” Dix asked, smiling at the guy.

  Now the men standing around with the guns looked even more uncomfortable. One of them said, “Don’t be pointin’ no finger at us. We took lead for the boss.”

  “Yeah,” the others said like a boys’ chorus hitting the perfect note all at the same time. A couple of them even absently touched places they had been shot.

  “Didn’t say it was any of you,” Dix said, smiling at the guy with the blue eyes. “But which one of ya isn’t here?”

  Shoe kept looking at Dix while all the goons looked at each other like they had never seen the other guy before, their guns waving back and forth like dead flashlights, searching for the person who wasn’t there.

  Finally one of them said, “Lenny.”

  The others murmured and nodded, letting Dix know he had hit on the right idea. Now if he could just turn it into a way out of here.

  “Lenny,” one man said again. “He was guardin’ the back door.”

  “Where the attack came from?” Dix asked.

  Everyone in the place knew it was from the back. The guy named Lenny was now doomed, no matter if he had helped or not. Dix didn’t much care.

  Cyrus Redblock’s second in command nodded, then stared at Dix. “So just because ya know dis, what makes ya think we can trust ya? You coulda been the one settin’ it up. Workin’ with Lenny.”

  “Because I’m here and your boss isn’t,” Dix said.

  For a moment the only sound in the big space was the last of the rain beating on the roof as the storm passed.

  Then from the back a door slammed, echoing like a shot, and half the men turned, guns ready to fire. This was one jumpy bunch of thugs. Of course, they had the right to be jumpy, considering everything.

  A guy came in, walking fast. He was short, with black hair and a long nose. His suit was wet and his hair plastered on his head. He came straight up to the guy in charge. “Word on the street is that Joe Morgan did the snatch.”

  “The Undertaker?” Shoe asked, turning and ignoring Dix for the moment.

  “Yeah,” the wet messenger said. “I heard it from a good source, who heard it from a good source, that the boss is stashed alive in a casket in Morgan’s headquarters.”

  “So we go in and get him out,” Shoe said.

  The other thugs shouted their agreement.

  “I wouldn’t move so fast,” Dix said. “You could get your boss killed permanently. And he wouldn’t much like that, any more than he liked the fact that you let him be snatched in the first place.”

  Shoe turned and stared at Dix. “We was caught by surprise. We’ll be da ones doing da surprising dis time.”

  “My point exactly,” Dix said. “Let me and my gang work with you.”

  “And what’s in it for you?” Shoe asked.

  Dix decided to level with the guy as much as he needed leveling with. “I’m lookin’ for a gizmo people call the Heart of the Adjuster. It’s about the size of a small ball, shines like it’s made out of gold, but it’s not. I help you get your boss back, I get his and your help finding my gizmo.”

  Shoe stared at him, as if he were a man who couldn’t read faced with a page of fine print. Finally he nodded. “Deal. Cut ’em loose.”

  Dix said nothing until the ropes were cut from all three of them, then he stood and faced Shoe.

  “You double-cross me,” Shoe said, his blue eyes slitted, “you’ll be swimmin’ with da fishes.”

  “No double-cross,” Dix said, staring right back. “If your boss is being held by this Joe ‘the Undertaker’ Morgan, we’ll get him back.”

  “A piece of cake,” Mr. Data said, doing his tough-guy stance. “Easy as pie. Slicker than a—”

  “Whatever,” Shoe said, waving away what Mr. Data was saying. “Get your people and meet us a block south of da Undertaker’s headquarters. Be ready ta fight.”

  With that he turned and strode toward the cars, his men scattering to follow.

  It took Dixon Hill, Mr. Data, and the Luscious Bev only a moment to beat a hasty retreat out into the light rain and the dark night of the street.

  Twenty hours before the Heart of the Adjuster is taken

  Captain’s Log.

  The Enterprise is still drifting in space toward an area we have called the Blackness. We have continued to maintain most internal systems and environmental controls, although with each passing hour it seems to take more and more effort. Engineer La Forge offers little hope of getting either the warp core or th
e impulse drives back on-line until we discover what exactly is causing the problem.

  On that front, Mr. Data has an amazing theory. He believes—and I tend to agree considering the information we have at the moment—that the Blackness is framed by not just one quantum singularity, but by four, all staying equidistant from the other. Our instruments can see only one from our present location.

  Such a formation, up to this point unheard of in the known universe, would have the effect of not allowing any light to escape from an area of space between the black holes, thus the Blackness. It would also cause untold rifts in the space-time continuum. If Mr. Data’s theory is correct, this ship would not survive entering the Blackness.

  I have instructed Mr. Data to continue his research to find proof that this is what we are facing, and I have ordered Engineer La Forge and all of engineering to find a way to slow the ship down. We must not get close to the edge of the Blackness, let alone enter it.

  Section Two: An Alley of Blood

  The perpetual night of this city by the bay had turned cold, the dampness biting at fingers and cheeks like an invisible animal, not hard enough to draw blood, but with enough force to leave the skin red and angry.

  Dixon Hill had the collar of his tan raincoat up around his neck and the belt of his coat pulled tight. His hands were in his pockets, but his ears and nose were still exposed to the cold. At that moment what he wanted more than anything else was for this case to be over, the Heart of the Adjuster safely back in his hands, and to be downing a hot toddy.

  In front of him the street leading to Joe “the Undertaker” Morgan’s headquarters seemed empty. The buildings along the street were made of stone and brick, not more than three stories tall. The windows were black and empty, like the eyes of a dead man. The fog seemed to drift around the tops of the buildings, threatening to drop down at any moment and put a shroud on the entire city block.

  Dixon Hill glanced around. A dozen of his people, including Mr. Data and the Luscious Bev, were scattered along one side of the street near the mouth of an alley. All were armed and hiding back in the shadows and doorways, waiting.

  A short distance away Danny Shoe and Redblock’s men were moving slowly toward the front door of the Undertaker’s funeral home headquarters. A big main entrance opened right onto the street beside a large garage door, clearly made to handle a hearse. Shoe figured he and his men could bust through the front and surprise the entire place. And he wanted to lead with his men.

  Dix was more than happy to let him lead. The last thing Dix wanted was for his people to get hurt.

  After Shoe had his men in position in alcoves and such near the Undertaker’s front door, Dix motioned for his people to start forward down the narrow side alley that led to the back of the Undertaker’s headquarters. Dix’s job was to make sure no one escaped out the back, especially with Redblock or the Heart of the Adjuster. With luck, Dix figured he would have the small golden ball called the Heart in his hands in a very short time.

  The alley felt more like a tall, dark hallway, with doors inside brick and stone alcoves along both sides. Garbage cans littered one side of the narrow corridor and metal fire escapes clung to both walls casting barlike shadows over everything. A dark alley cat rummaged in the garbage of one overturned can, making almost no noise as it searched for survival. Dix was about to join it in that alley, on the same search.

  Just as Dix was about to step into the narrow corridor, three of Shoe’s goons busted open the funeral home’s front door and went in firing.

  The rest of Redblock’s men followed.

  The quiet, cold street had suddenly come alive with the loud explosions of gunfire, so much that the sound seemed to combine into a thunderlike quality, shaking the windows and rattling doors. Lights in windows up and down the street flashed on as the noise awoke the neighbors.

  “Get into positions,” Dix shouted to his people as they scattered along the length of the alley and into doorways across from the back entrance of the big funeral home.

  The entire building seemed to shake with the storm of weapons fire raging inside it. Clearly Shoe and Redblock’s men had met some resistance in there. But they had expected it.

  Suddenly the back door burst open and three men Dix didn’t recognize ran out into the open. All three were packing large weapons. They were so close Dix felt he could almost touch them.

  “Freeze!” Dix shouted.

  “Drop the heaters!” Mr. Data joined in.

  The three were clearly not used to being smart. All three spun and started firing, the explosions impossibly loud in the narrow alley. One bullet sent stone chips flying right over Dix’s head.

  Dix fired back, taking down the guy on the left in the dark suit with a single shot. The other two went to the pavement just as quickly under the hail of fire from Dix’s people.

  Slowly, the battle inside calmed until there was no more firing. No more men tried to escape.

  Dix’s ears were ringing from the noise. The smell of gun powder and death mixed with the rotting stink of the alley.

  “Damn,” Bev said, moving forward and kneeling over someone who lay sprawled in a doorway just a few feet from Dix. It was Evans. He had been hit. Steam was coming from the blood flowing on the sidewalk.

  Dix moved over to stand above Bev as she checked out the young Evans’ wounds. The kid was twenty-six, and had claimed a love for this old city, which is why he thought he could help get the Heart of the Adjuster back. Dix just hoped now the kid wasn’t going to die here.

  “How is he?”

  Bev glanced up, not noticing the blood on her hands that seemed black in the poor light of the street. “He needs medical help. Quickly.”

  Dix turned and pointed at the nearest one of his men. “Mr. Whelan, you and Carter help get Evans out of here.”

  They both jumped to Bev’s side as Shoe came to the door of the funeral home, took one glance at the three bodies on the ground, and motioned for Dix to come in.

  “Let me know how he does,” Dix said to Bev.

  She only nodded as Whelan and Carter picked up Evans and headed down the street, with her following. Dix watched for a moment, then before he turned to join Shoe he motioned for the rest of his men to stay in position. “Any trouble, pull back and report to Mr. Riker. One of you search these three for the Heart.”

  They nodded.

  Dix indicated that Mr. Data should come with him and he headed for the back door of the funeral home.

  “Good job out here,” Shoe said, indicating the three dead goons on the sidewalk, before turning and moving into the black opening of the funeral home.

  “Redblock?” Dix asked as he followed Shoe into a dimly lit hallway that smelled of disinfectant and even more blood.

  “We’re workin’ on that,” Shoe said.

  “Working on that?” Dix asked, not liking the answer.

  “Does not sound promising,” Mr. Data said from behind him. Dix had to agree. Something had gone wrong here.

  The hallway opened up into a back storage area of the funeral home. Two men lay dead there, covered in supplies that had fallen from the shelves. Shoe went on through an open door into the casket display room.

  “Search this area and these men for the Heart,” Dix said to Data, pointing at the storage.

  Dix then followed Shoe. Two of Shoe’s men had a skinny man in a black suit pressed down into a coffin. Five or six of Shoe’s goons stood guard over four of the Undertaker’s men near the front door. Even though the room was full of caskets, there were no bodies in here that Dix could see.

  “Let him up,” Shoe said. “Get him out of there.”

  Shoe’s two stooges yanked the skinny guy up and out of the casket like so much tissue paper, setting him down on his feet.

  The thin man swayed for a moment, then caught his balance and straightened his tie, squaring his shoulders to face Shoe.

  “So, Undertaker, where’s Redblock?” The thin man shook his head, smiling at Shoe with
a sickening mouthful of rotten teeth. “From what I heard, he was snatched right out from under your nose. But not by me.”

  Dix, for some reason, instantly hated the guy. More than anything he wanted to punch him, but held back.

  Shoe clearly didn’t feel like restraining himself. He simply stepped forward and buried his fist into the thin man’s stomach. With a whoosh of air, the Undertaker doubled over as if he had suddenly lost something on the ground.

  “How can I be sure of dat?” Shoe asked.

  Dix knew there was no chance the Undertaker could answer that question with all his air gone.

  Shoe’s goons hauled the thin man back upright. The man’s face was red, his eyes bulging out of his face as he fought to catch his breath.

  “I asked ya a question,” Shoe said, smiling at the Undertaker.

  “Search all you want,” the thin man managed to choke out. “He’s not here. I didn’t snatch him.”

  At that moment Mr. Data came out of the back room. It was clear to Dix that he had not found anything.

  The Undertaker took a deep, shuddering breath and again straightened his tie. “As your boss would tell you if he was here, we worked together. Who do you think handled all the bodies your organization generates?”

  “Boss!” one of the goons shouted from the front door. “We got company. It’s the cops!”

  “It would seem,” Mr. Data said, “that the gig is up.”

  Eighteen hours before the Heart of the Adjuster is pilfered

  Captain’s Log.

  Mr. Data has confirmed, by managing to alter sensors enough to get some basic readings, that the Blackness is caused by four quantum singularities, all balanced on the same plane like four corners on a square. Such a formation has been theorized as possible since the early twenty-first century, but never seen before now. If this was not affecting our ship and endangering the lives of my crew, it would be a fascinating scientific study.

  Mr. Data mapped for the crew the extent of the subspace disturbances. It would seem that we stumbled right into it. And with each passing moment we are going deeper and deeper. We are able to deal with the forces near a single quantum event horizon, but the subspace disturbances that are combining from four are creating a new problem.