“Good thinking, Teddy. Does Lacey know?”
“Of course. She thought about slipping out the back, but I thought if this guy is up to no good he might have someone out there. Lacey said this guy is bad news.”
“He is. I’m heading there now. You have a barmaid handy?”
“Shotgun under the bar top. Why? Do you think I might need it?”
“It’s a possibility. He’s under suspension and internal affairs is looking to burn him down, so he might be unstable. “
“Is he the guy that’s been in the news?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit. Okay, Rick, what do you plan to do?”
“Get him out of the club and make sure he’s not a threat to anyone.”
“Good.” He paused. “How are you going to do that?”
“When I get close to the club I’ll call you. You tell Bartram that Lacey called and she’s over at The Cog. Do you know where that is?”
“Sure, over by the West Bridge. It’s a shit pit. Why there?”
“Mostly I want him out of Lacey’s. I’m going to follow him and make sure he gets clear of the club. Hopefully he’ll just leave once he finds she’s not at The Cog and go back to Midtown where he belongs. If not, I know a couple of cops that would love to catch him up to no good and he can sit in jail until his IA hearing.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be ready for your call.”
I went by my office and grabbed the blaster I picked up at the Belvedere. I wanted it just in case Bartram wanted to turn the issue into a shooting affair. Not many people carry .45’s, but the city is awash in blasters. I wanted some deniability if the question of legality came up.
I called Lacey as I was walking to her club. “Hi, doll. You okay?”
“I’m fine, Rick. Teddy told me what you have planned. Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
“Yes. We’ll get him out of the club. If there’s going to be trouble we don’t want it in there. Bartram is there because of me.”
“Aren’t you going to be in danger if he sees you?”
“Maybe. He has to see me first. If he decides to cause trouble, then I’ll call the IA detectives down here.”
“Be careful, Rick.”
“Of course. I still owe you a few lunches.”
I hung up and called Teddy when I got near the club. I had a good vantage point overlooking the entrance to Lacey’s. There was the usual large crowd swirling through the area, which would make it easy to stay unnoticed.
A minute after I hung up Bartram came out of the club and stopped near the entrance. He was looking around and then raised his arm and yelled at someone. I couldn’t hear over the crowd and street noise, but a man pushed his way through the milling people and joined Bartram on the sidewalk. They spoke for a few minutes before a third man joined them. They were both gunsels from the look of them, not mercs. My money was on them being from the O’Hara mob. Mobsters were more Bartram’s speed than mercs.
Together, they set off, headed south and east toward the West Bridge and The Cog. I was forced to drop back to avoid detection when the crowd thinned out as they moved away from the clubs The trio cut through a residential area commonly referred to as Squatsville, a collection of crap housing units on the edge of the Sky Riser close to the industrialplex. The nearly constant truck traffic to the east coming across the bridge made the area even more pleasant than it was otherwise. In the Red Light, this was what the lowest of the low called home.
The place had one thing going for it: there was hardly any litter. Anything of worth left unattended for more than a few minutes was quickly snatched up and sold, usually on the black market or to a recycler. From scrap paper and bottle caps to heavy trucks and construction equipment, all were fair game to be salvaged, stripped, or stolen.
I kept my distance, carefully peering around corners to keep tabs on the three men. They were certainly on a course for The Cog. I thought that maybe my plan might work.
The trio turned right into an alley on the opposite side of the street from the club before they reached the place. At first I thought they might be moving to a spot to eyeball the joint, but my gut said no. I moved up the street.
I went to the entrance, peeked down the alley, and saw nothing. I considered leaving and returning to Lacey’s, that’s what a smart guy would have done. I went into the alley.
I drew the 25mm blaster and rotated the safety off as I walked. The alley was dark, but not quite pitch black. I could see junk on the ground, apparently so worthless it couldn’t even be sold for scrap.
The alley ended in a T intersection ahead. When I got there I looked left and caught a flash of light a hundred meters down the alley. I couldn’t tell if it was Bartram and his two thug trigger team or not. I followed my gut and moved in the direction where the flash came from.
The alley hit a four-way intersection just ahead so I slowed my pace to a creep. I passed an old dumpster—surprised someone hadn’t sold it for scrap—and was easing my way to a position where I could look down the branches of the intersection when Bartram yelled.
“Johnson. You are predictable as hell.”
I was sure the voice came from straight ahead, but I couldn’t see a thing. I walked right into it again, but this time nobody put a sap to my head.
“You thought you’d waylay me?” He yelled. “Sorry shithead, but it’s you that’s been set up. These boys are gonna make you pay for zeroing their friends the other day. What do you think of that?”
I didn’t answer.
“Too chickenshit to say something?”
I kept quiet and slowly back stepped toward the dumpster behind me. I thought I heard noise down the alley to the right.
“Fine. Stay quiet,” Bartram said. “It don’t change anything, ‘cause we’re coming.”
“You’ll get yours, shamus,” a high voice yelled from the darkness. “We’ve got you boxed in.” I thought it came from the right, but the sound of his voice was bouncing across the narrow alley walls and corners and made it hard to pinpoint.
The noise was getting closer. I knelt and picked up a piece of rotted wood and waited.
The sound became recognizable, it was someone wearing hard-soled shoes walking slowly, trying to be quiet. I guessed it to be ten or fifteen meters away.
I threw the wood to the left side of the intersection. The piece hit the wall then skittered across the ground noisily. The gunsel fired twice at the diversion, the high-pitched noise reverberating off the walls. It was enough for me to get a bead on him. I fired once. In the brief flash of the bolt’s impact on the side of his head I saw him going down, his head wound glowing for a short time in the dark like blaster hits do sometimes.
From around the corner and to the left I heard footfalls thudding and the sound of refuse being kicked across the pavement as the person ran up the alley.
“Kirk, did you get him?” he yelled. It wasn’t the high-voiced guy.
“Yeah, man. He hit me though,” I yelled in a high voice mimicking the downed gunsel, my face close to the brick wall. I hoped the other guy might be fooled by the acoustics in the alley.
“I’m coming, Kirk.”
He turned on a flashlight. The beam passed over Kirk’s body from right to left, then quickly came back onto the dead man. I could hear running footfalls again as he moved to his compatriot, the beam of light bouncing and creating a strobe-like effect.
I was kneeling and leaning around the side of the stinking dumpster with the blaster ready. I could feel paint and rust flaking off where the back of my hand touched the side. The gunsel stopped next to Kirk and knelt. It must have dawned on him that Kirk could never have answered him with a blaster bolt hole through the head.
It didn’t matter. He got a bolt hole of his own before he could move and he ended up on the ground next to Kirk. His flashlight rolled on the pavement and came to rest, illuminating them both.
I moved past them and to the end of the alley. It opened onto an access ledge abo
ut three meters wide that bordered the skyway. The railing that was supposed to prevent falls over the edge was long gone. Cut off and sold to a scrap metal dealer long ago if I were to hazard a guess.
I knelt and very slowly looked around the corner to my right. Bartram was facing away from me, kneeling behind a metal storage box welded to the wall. There was enough light from the pulsing orange and blue skyway beacons that I could see fairly well.
I crept up on him till I was five or six meters away.
“Don’t move, Bartram,” I said sternly.
He jumped a little, but didn’t try and make a play. “Shit. They were supposed to kill you or herd you the other way. You just can’t find good help these days,” he said. I didn’t laugh. “What do you have in mind, Johnson?”
“The blaster. On the ground.”
He did as I ordered and the weapon hit the hard surface under our feet with a plastic clatter.
“Over the side. Kick it,” I said.
He tried. The blaster tumbled to a stop less than a meter away from the edge.
“Try that again, Bartram.”
“The two O’Hara boys, you drop’em?” he asked as he walked to the blaster and kicked it again. He made it this time and the weapon went over the edge.
“Yeah. Pull your shirt up and turn around slowly.”
He obeyed. He was disgusting, and so was his physique. “Well, at least I know that bastard Blanc will get his,” he said facing away from me as he wheeled.
“What does that mean?”
He laughed as he finished the slow turn. “You can’t stop it and Blanc ain’t in no shape to fight like you, you bastard. He’ll be dead and so will that bitch from IA.”
“Blake?”
“You sweet on her, Johnson?” He sneered. “You get around, I’ll give you that. That stripper and that IA bitch.”
“What did you do?”
“Did a favor some time back for some guys out east and they’re doing one for me in return. Blanc will die in his bed. Blake will die too, and the IA case goes bye-bye. I’ll tell you ‘cause you can’t do a damn thing about it. Can’t prove it. Can’t stop it. Can’t kill me.” He smiled broadly, looking at his watch. “Almost time. Go ahead and take me in. Let’s see what happens.”
I knew Bartram well enough to be sure he wasn’t just blowing lies. He wanted to make me squirm. The fucked up thing about it was that he might have been right, unless I could stop the killers at the hospital. Calling the police would be useless.
I didn’t have time to turn Bartram over to the cops if I was going to help Bob and Detective Blake, so I gave Bartram a swift fist in the guts. I struck him as hard as I could, intent on knocking that swine-eyed smile right off of him.
He wasn’t smiling when I turned and made for the hospital. It didn’t do me any good physically to hit him that way. All my recent hurts screamed at me in protest, but I hoped he would feel it for the rest of his life. It was better than he deserved. Maybe the cops could take care of him later.
I ran down the alley as fast as I could and coded in Blake’s number.
“Hello?” she said.
“It’s Johnson. This is important.”
“Johnson? Why are you calling this time of night?” she said with mild irritation.
“Never mind that,” I said, my voice ragged from the exertion as I ran. “Where are you?”
“I’m in Robert’s hospital room. I was just getting ready to leave. Why? Hey, are you running?”
“You got trouble coming your way. Somebody is going to try to give you and Bob the bump-off. And yes I am running.”
To Blake’s credit she didn’t come back with a stupid question and ask me repeat myself or make me convince her I was serious.
“How are they going to do this?” she asked.
“I don’t know for sure, but I am guessing a blaster team from the same group that tried to do me and Bob the other day.”
I came out of the alley onto the street and looked for a cab. Just up the block was The Cog. I ran that way in hope there was a taxi there. “Is the uniform at the door?” I asked.
“I’ll check,” she said.
There was a taxi sitting just in the parking lot next to the street. I jumped in the back and saw a cabbie I knew called Crazy Karl in the driver’s seat. He truly was a crazy bastard, and right now I needed crazy. Karl acquired his nickname due to certain eccentricities, among which was delivering passengers only he could see to destinations, and then have arguments with them over the fare.
“Get me to my office, Karl,” I said. “The quicker the trip, the bigger the tip.”
“Who the fuck are you, man? How do you know my name?” he yelled, glaring at me in the rear view mirror.
“Fuck,” I grumbled. “Building three-one-three, romp it.”
“You got it,” he said as he stomped the accelerator. “I know a guy that lives there. Rick’s his name. There’s a guy that works there named Rick too. I think I’ve met him also.”
“I’m Rick.”
“Yeah?” he said turning to look at me. “You are. You look different. Which one are you?” he asked squinting at me
“Both of’em. Eyes on the road,” I said pointing at the windshield.
“Oh, right,” he said turning to look forward. “How’d you manage that?”
“A home plastic surgery kit.”
“I got to try one of those. I think I saw an ad on the vid. I hope that’s not one of those—”
I tuned him out as he raged about vid commercials and put my phone to my ear.
“Blake?”
“What the hell was that, Rick?” she asked.
I was ‘Rick’ now.
“Karl the cabbie. Not important. The uniform, is he there?”
“No. I have to assume he is gone by design?”
“Maybe. Doesn’t matter now. You have to move Blanc out of there. Get him to another room. On another floor if you can manage it.”
“Okay. I have to alert the medical staff. Get them clear.”
“Find an authority figure. A doctor, a head nurse, have them clear out whatever staff they can, but don’t tell any of them where you are taking Bob. You worry about you and Blanc and let them worry about them. The targets are Blanc and you, the killers probably don’t give a damn about anyone else unless they interfere.”
Karl had us closing on my building at high speed.
“I’m going to be there in a few minutes. Get Blanc moving,” I said.
“I will. I’m calling for backup.”
“You won’t get any,” I said flatly.
She was IA. Half the cops in the area would help kill her if they could get away with it and the other half would do nothing to stop it. She might get lucky and hit the straight cop lottery, but those were steep odds. And Blanc? Well, he was a new guy. They wouldn’t miss him.
“Bullshit,” she said. “Talk about pessimism. I’ll call you back in a couple of minutes.”
She’d learn, or she wouldn’t live long enough for it to matter.
Karl slid the taxi into the curb in front of Building 313 hard enough to get the two tires on the opposite side of the sedan to come off the ground a little. My ribs did not appreciate it when I slammed into the door.
I threw some scrip into the front seat as I climbed out. “Thanks, Karl.”
“You got it. Say hi to Rick for me.”
I ran for my office and grabbed the keys to Blanc’s sedan once I was inside. A minute later I was gunning it for the hospital. I flipped on the emergency beacons, which would warn drivers a police vehicle was coming. The beacons would also kick in the governors on any vehicle whose owner had not disabled them and slow them down.
My phone rang. A quick glance at the number showed me it was Blake.
“You got Blanc and yourself to a new location?”
“Yes,” she said. Her voice was shaky. “You were right. I called High Town, Riser, and a couple of Midtown dispatch centers and they won’t send anyone. They
said they didn’t believe me or that all their officers are busy.”
Called off, paid off, or scared off was my guess. The stark truth that her fellow cops would leave her to her fate shook her up a little.
“Welcome to this little corner of the world. Where are you?” I asked.
“Dr. Bryant and a nurse helped me move Robert to a storage room on the second floor. Room Two-F.”
“Are they still there?”
“The doctor and nurse? Yes. They won’t leave.”
“Okay. Call the Spire and see if they’ll send some skycar units. They can be here fairly quickly. Sit tight and I’ll call you when I’m at the hospital.”
I had Blanc’s car going as fast as it could go. 130 kilometers per hour on crowded urban streets isn’t fun, unless you’re an idiot. A part of me enjoyed it.
I was at the hospital in a few minutes. I shut down the emergency beacons before I got there and slid the car to a stop on the sidewalk near the emergency room. They could get someone to tow it if they didn’t like it.
I ran through the emergency room entrance and went to the security station as I coded in Blake’s number. I asked a nurse where the guard was and she said he was making his rounds.
“Rick?” said Detective Blake when she answered.
“Yeah. I’m at the security station in the emergency room. I’m going to see if I can spot anyone on the cams. You okay?”
“We’re all right. I’m a little scared.”
“Good. It means you’re human and sane. Keep calm and you’ll be okay. You get any Spire units?”
“Yes, but they said it will be several minutes at best.”
“That’s fine, We can deal with this,” I said as I scanned the monitor. The camera views were displayed across the screen in a grid pattern, sixteen per page.
I switched to the third floor cameras and I saw four masked and armed men moving into a stairwell. A nurse lay on the floor nearby. I was not familiar with the camera controls so it took me a few seconds to get the desired camera view.
The Lowdown in High Town: An R.R. Johnson Novel Page 16