The Blackcollar Series

by Timothy Zahn

“Into the Strip?” Fuess yelped. “That’s crazy!”

  “Another calculated risk,” Lathe corrected mildly. They’ll have to scramble to cover all the Strip’s exits, and in the confusion we’ll have a better chance of slipping out.”

  “We’d do better to run for it directly,” Fuess ground out.

  Lathe glanced at the Argentian. “Recommendation noted, Commando,” he said with a coldness that surprised Caine. “Now strap in.”

  “Yes, sir.” Fuess muttered.

  Ahead, through breaks in the traffic, Caine caught glimpse of more warning lights. “Someone coming,” he said, pointing.

  “I see it,” Lathe said. “You strapped in? Good. Hang on, everybody.” Tapping the brakes, he turned right and once more accelerated. Barely twenty meters ahead was the wall’s Avis Street gate.

  The Security guards behind the mesh, caught completely by surprise, had no chance to offer resistance Both froze for a second, then scrambled madly to get out of the way. Caine never saw whether they made it; his eyes closed automatically as he braced for the impact.

  They hit with a spine-wrenching shock that threw Caine hard against his seat belts as the air exploded with the screech of tortured metal. For a long instant he was sure the gate had held …and then, abruptly, they were accelerating again and the racket was falling behind them. Opening his eyes, he saw through the badly cracked windshield that the front of the car was still relatively intact. “We made it!” he said, not quite believing it.

  Beside him, Mordecai exhaled quietly. “I wasn’t at all sure that would work,” he said.

  Lathe seemed to be fighting the wheel. “Security cars are usually built pretty strong. I wouldn’t want to track that on the inner wall’s gates, though.”

  “You were right,” Fuess admitted, shaking his head. I apologize, Comsquare. You pulled it off.”

  “Save the back-patting for later,” Lathe told him short. “Look for a car we can commandeer—this one’s crabbing to the left.”

  Glancing down a cross street as they passed, Caine caught a glimpse of warning lights. “Security car approaching from the west,” he reported.

  “From behind us, too,” Mordecai added.

  “Okay.” Lathe turned left at the next street and immediately braked to a halt. “Mordecai, play backstop. We’ll take that car up ahead.”

  “Right.” Wrenching open his door, Mordecai slid out, taking one of the pistols with him.

  Starting up again, Lathe drove another half block to the parked car he’d pointed out. “Everyone out,” he ordered. “Fuess, get that car unlocked.”

  Seconds later, the first Security car squealed around the corner behind them. “Caine, take cover,” Lathe snapped, snatching the rifle and pistol from him and running across the street to a recessed doorway.

  Caine obeyed, jumping in front of their car and crouching low. The chase car had meantime skidded to a cross-rays stop, blocking the street and providing cover for the six Security men who poured from it. With a glance down the street behind him—where a handful of pedestrians were prudently running away from the confrontation—Caine drew out one of the three throwing stars he had with him. Straightening up, he threw it, ducking down again even as a load of paral-darts whispered by overhead, clutching the other two shuriken, he crouched as low as he could, wishing bitterly he’d stayed home. He was nothing but a liability out here, someone to get them all captured or killed.

  And then, suddenly, the hail of darts ceased. A motion from the side made him start before he realized it was only Lathe. “Is that car ready yet?” the comsquare called, hoping toward him.

  “Uh….” Confused, Caine looked cautiously over the top of the car.

  Mordecai was running down the street, dart pistol dangling negligently from one hand. Behind him, near the security car, Caine saw six unmoving forms.

  Once again Mordecai had beaten heavy odds…and once again Caine had managed to miss the show.

  Beside him, there was a click. “Should work now,” Fuess reported, sliding out from under the vehicle—just as more Security cars came tearing around the far corner.

  Mordecai and Lathe reacted together, and two stars went streaking down the block. Incredibly, despite the angle, at least one of them found a target, and the sound of a tire blowing was audible over the squeal of brakes. Get in!” Lathe snapped, throwing two more stars as the Security men began firing ineffectively through their car windows.

  Fuess had the doors open, and he and Caine scramble in. Lathe followed, shouldering Fuess from the driver seat. “I’ll drive,” he said, checking the controls. Mordecai emptied his dart gun and tumbled into the back seat next to Caine as the car started to roll. Whipping around in a tight semicircle, Lathe sent them hurtling toward the Security car blocking the road. Caine tensed for an other crash, but the comsquare took the car up onto the walkway, edging perilously close to the building on the side and just brushing the Security vehicle. Accelerating Lathe took a left at the next corner.

  Caine didn’t even try to suppress the sigh of relief that escaped him. Under his flexarmor he was soaked with sweat. “That was too close,” he said to no one in particular.

  “It’s not over yet,” Fuess growled from in front of him “Lathe, this is crazy. The quizlers back there have broadcast our description to every patrol in the city by now. What are we going to do, keep changing cars and hope we lose them?”

  “We could do that,” Lathe agreed. “But then we’d still have to get out of the Strip. I don’t really want to go smashing another gate.”

  “So what are we going to do?” Fuess persisted.

  Lathe took another couple of corners before answering. “Put yourself in their place,” he suggested. “We’ve go the whole Strip and its eleven exits to play with, and we know that a lot of their manpower was concentrated on their trap south of the Strip. We may even have found a new car by now. Given all that, what would you guess we’re doing?”

  “Heading east or west, I suppose,” Fuess shrugged.

  “Right. So we’re going where they won’t expect us. Even as he spoke Lathe turned a final corner and brought the car to a stop.

  Caine blinked. “The wall? The south wall,” he added noting the direction of the sun.

  Fuess craned his neck to see the street signs at the corner. “We’re only three blocks west of the Avis Street gate,” he said, sounding both alarmed and puzzled.

  “Right again,” Lathe acknowledged. “Everyone out, from here it’s on foot.”

  “We can’t climb over it,” Fuess said as they got out. The mesh is loaded with detectors and high-voltage antipersonnel wires.”

  “I know. We’re going to walk out the gate. Weapons situation?”

  “Low,” Mordecai said before Fuess could recover from his surprise. “I’ve got one shuriken left, plus my nunchaku.”

  “Caine?”

  “Two stars.”

  “Give them to Mordecai. Fuess?”

  “This is insane!” the Argentian exclaimed. “They’ll still have left a force there to keep unauthorized people out—”

  “Weapons, Commando?” Lathe cut him off.

  “None!”

  “None?” Mordecai was incredulous.

  “Of course not—I assumed we’d be going into the Strip. I already told you that.”

  “Never mind,” Lathe cut in. “I’ve got two stars left; maybe it’ll be enough. Let’s go. Mordecai, you and Fuess stay a few meters ahead of us for now.”

  They walked back to the corner and turned right. Other pedestrians were visible far down the street and vehicular traffic was beginning to increase. Walking beside Lathe, trying to imitate the comsquare’s slightly indolent gait, Caine felt his heart pounding loudly. This simply could not work—and the fact that at one point a Security car barreled by without slowing did nothing to change that opinion. Clearly, the government troops weren’t expecting them to be this far south and on foot, though someone had to notice them eventually.

  But
they completed the three-block walk to Avis Street without that hypothetical person coming along. Turning south, they started down the long block toward the ruined gate.

  Considering how short a time had elapsed since Lathe had smashed through, the defensive gap had been plugged with remarkable efficiency. A car was lying across the road, filling all but about a meter at each end of the gateway. The two pedestrian turnstiles had survived, and a small stream of people were being passed through by a contingent of Security men. “Look—six guards,” Caine murmured, nudging Lathe nervously. “We’re one throwing star short.”

  “Two, actually. See that guardhouse?”

  The tiny glassed-in cubicle sat against the wall a couple of meters from the gate area. One of the six guards sat inside, looking tense and painfully alert. “I counted him,” Caine told the comsquare.

  “There’s a cable leading from its base—disappears underground about a meter away where an older guard house must have once been. It probably carries phone and power lines and will have to be cut.”

  “Oh. Great.” Caine hadn’t noticed the cable. “So what about the extra guards? Try to get close enough to us Mordecai’s nunchaku?”

  “Doubtful,” Mordecai said over his shoulder, he and Fuess having drifted back into conversation range.

  “Agreed,” Lathe nodded. “We’re going the wrong direction for this time of day, and they’ll have plenty of time to wonder about that.” He paused. “All right, let’s try this. That outside stairway across the street, about fifty meters from the gate, should have adequate cover for two. Mordecai, you and Fuess will cross over and move up next to it. Caine and I can duck into the doorway directly opposite on this side. When we’re all within jumping distance of cover, we’ll open fire.”

  “Right.” Mordecai nudged Fuess and they began angling across the road.

  “Lathe!” Caine hissed. “What about the extra guards?’

  “Don’t worry about it. Just walk casually and be ready to run.”

  Caine gritted his teeth and kept walking, his eyes flicking between the guards and the recessed doorway Lathe had indicated. Seven or eight pedestrians were between them and the gate now, and Caine wondered belatedly if Lathe had taken their presence into account. The doorway was five steps away now…four…three….

  One of the guards was looking back at them, a slight frown on his face. Suddenly, his eyes widened and his hand dropped to his holster. “Hey!”

  “Move!” Lathe snapped at Caine, and even as the younger man lengthened his stride a chunk of black lightning streaked past his ear. He caught a glimpse of Security men toppling backwards before the edge of the doorway blocked off the sight. Before he had time to flatten against the wall Lathe charged, in on top of him, slamming him into the door.

  “You okay?” Lathe muttered.

  “Just winded…a bit,” Caine managed, trying to get a hand free to rub his ribs. Over Lathe’s shoulder he could see Fuess and Mordecai crouched behind their stairway. “You get them?”

  “All but the last two. I suspect they know we’re out of shuriken—they weren’t even close to having their guns out before we took cover.” Even as he spoke a shower of darts bounced off the far side of the doorway.

  “Great,” Caine groaned. A doorknob was digging into his kidney; reaching behind him, he tried to turn it. “The door’s locked. Can you give me room to try to pick it?”

  A second load of needles went by. “I’m already practically exposed,” Lathe said.

  “You’ll be a lot more exposed soon,” Caine snapped tensely. “They’ll be down here any minute!”

  To his surprise, Lathe chuckled. “I’m counting on it,” he said. He glanced quickly around the edge. “Yep—here they come.”

  There was nothing Caine could do, and the sense of helplessness was almost suffocating. Surely the Security men were smart enough to avoid the risk of hand-to-hand combat. All they had to do was come down opposite sides of the street, covering each other, until they could shoot directly into the fugitives’ skimpy cover. No risk at all.…Hands curled into painful fists, Caine waited for the sting of needles—

  And Lathe suddenly lunged half out of concealment, whipping his arm in a throwing motion that Mordecai, across the street, matched to the precise second. A final burst of darts clattered noisily as Lathe ducked back, and Caine heard something large fall to the walkway. Lathe glanced out and was gone; more cautiously, Caine followed.

  The Security man was sprawled on the walkway, something shiny glittering in his left temple. Lathe bent briefly over the body and removed the object. It was small and silvery, with a bloodied batwing edge and a sort of loop….With a shock, Caine realized it was the comsquare’s dragonhead ring.

  Mordecai and Fuess were alongside them now. “We going to walk all the way back?” Fuess asked as they hurried toward the gate.

  “No need.” Mordecai gestured at the car in the gap. His ring, too, had blood on its crest.

  Lathe nodded. “They’ll have left it unlocked and ready to go. Fuess, you’re driving.”

  A handful of bystanders still hovered near the gate, showing expressions that ranged from terror to grim approval. Caine watched them warily, but no one made any move toward the weapons lying on the ground. Fuess and Lathe slid into the front seat as Caine and Mordecai climbed into the back, and moments later the car was rolling down the street.

  “It’s a civilian car,” Fuess said, gesturing to the instrument panel. “Commandeered from some passerby, probably. We going home, or haven’t you had enough excitement yet?”

  “Turn left at the next street; you’ll drop me off in a couple of blocks,” Lathe said. “Then you can go home.”

  “What are you staying here for?” Caine asked, frowning.

  “I still haven’t had my look at Henslowe Prison,” the comsquare said mildly.

  CHAPTER 17

  “DON’T BOTHER SWITCHING CARS; just hurry back and stay put,” Lathe said in final instruction as Fuess pulled over to the curb. The comsquare got out quickly and stepped across the walkway toward one of the taller buildings that lined the street. The car pulled back into the traffic flow, and Lathe paused long enough to watch a second vehicle leave its parking space and give leisurely pursuit. Smiling in satisfaction, he went inside.

  The building’s lobby was reasonably full, most of the occupants grouped around the elevators. Lathe didn’t wait, but went directly to the nearby stairway door and started up, emerging on the seventh floor. It took a minute to locate the service stairs leading to the rooftop equipment shed, and a minute after that he opened the shed door and stepped out onto the roof.

  Sitting comfortably with his back against the shed wall, a quietly hissing box at his side, Skyler looked up. “I was wondering if you were going to show,” he said in greeting, heaving himself to his feet.

  “Damn near didn’t,” Lathe answered, puffing slightly from his climb. “Ran into a massive collie trap down there.”

  Skyler nodded. “I figured as much. Was that you who ran down the Avis Street gate?”

  “Yes. Did you find me a uniform?”

  Skyler pointed. “Behind the door there. A lieutenant was kind enough to donate it. You’ll need to get rid of your beard, but I think then you’ll be close enough to pass a casual inspection.”

  Lathe closed the shed door. Resting atop a suitcase was a gray-green Security uniform. “Anyone going to miss its owner?” he asked as he began stripping off his outer clothing.

  “Not any time soon.” Skyler had a speculative look on his face. “So tell me more about this trap.”

  “All laid on and waiting for us to walk into.” Lathe found the ID card in a tunic pocket, studied the picture briefly, then picked up a tube of depilatory and towel that were lying half under the uniform and set to work on his beard. With an elbow he indicated the hissing box. “You hear any troop movements on your eavesdropper?”

  “Not until you escaped,” Skyler told him. “Before then there were a few coded si
gnals, but not nearly enough to set up a full-size trap from scratch.”

  “So that clinches it,” Lathe said with a tired sigh. “There’s a spy in Tremayne’s top echelon.”

  “Looks that way,” Skyler agreed. “Unless someone was hiding in the garage when you left…no, they still couldn’t have deployed people that fast without using radios.”

  “Besides which, I had Spadafora hiding there to watch for something like that.”

  “Um. Did Kwon ever show up, incidentally? I didn’t want to use the tingler.”

  “Yes—he picked up backstop position as they drove off. They shouldn’t be in any danger. Mordecai’s there, anyway.”

  Only Skyler’s long association with Lathe could have permitted him to properly read that remark. “Something wrong with Fuess?” he asked.

  Lathe pursed his lips. “I don’t know. Nothing I can put my finger on. He doesn’t fight as well as I’d expect, maybe. But the training program may have slipped near the end, so that might not mean anything. Maybe it’s just that he’s too argumentative.”

  “He’s used to being top kid in this playground,” Skyler said. But he looked thoughtful. “He reminds me a lot of Fafnir Riesman; remember him? In fact, all four of them—everyone but Bakshi—would fit Riesman’s image of the perfect blackcollar.”

  “Yeah. On Plinry all of that type got themselves killed taking one stupid chance too many.”

  “This isn’t Plinry,” Skyler reminded him. “Maybe exaggerated virility is a survival trait in this war.”

  “Maybe,” Lathe grunted. Sealing the depilatory tube, he tossed it aside and finished fastening his new tunic. “How do I look?” he asked, handing the other the ID card.

  Skyler gestured for him to turn around. “Well…not too bad. You’ll pass, I think.” He slid the card back into Lathe’s pocket.

  “Good enough.” Crouching by the suitcase, Lathe opened it and examined the contents. Two-thirds of the space was taken up by a compact rocket launcher and four sleek surface-to-surface missiles; the remainder was filled with flexarmor gloves and battle-hood, an amazingly flat gas filter, and an assortment of weaponry. “Okay,” he said, closing the case and straightening up. “Are the window dressing and escape route ready?”