As I approached the intersection with Houston Street, the car I was driving started to shudder and I heard the telltale thudding sound of a tire coming apart. I jammed on the brakes hoping to get the speed down before that happened but the tire went anyway in spectacular fashion. I fought for control and I slid left onto the sidewalk, stopping just a few meters shy of the intersection.
Projectiles rattled against the bodywork and windows of my disabled ride leaving light grey splotches where they hit. I saw three gunsels behind a car catty-cornered from me across the intersection. I rolled out of the driver’s door and stayed low, dragging my shotgun and one-four’s weapon with me. The guys firing at me were armed with chatterguns, so I was safe behind the body of the car.
I popped up from behind the hood and fired a load of buckshot at them. One of them screamed in pain as the pellets tore through both sides of the car and scored a hit.
I saw movement to my right and brought my shotgun to bear. It was Twisted John moving into the intersection as the gunsels opened fire again. I yelled at John, but he couldn’t hear me. He looked terrified. I doubt he knew he was running into a crossfire. He was simply scared and wanted to get somewhere safe, but the intersection was anything but just then. This was one those occasions when he was a danger to himself. It really wasn’t his fault.
I grabbed the chattergun I’d taken from one-four and fired a burst at the gunsels just ahead of John as he jittered his way as fast as he could go through the intersection. They ducked instinctively when the plastic rounds hit the car. They started to rise up to fire again so I unleashed a burst over John onto the wall above the gunmen making them change their minds and stay down as John screamed from fright.
Once John was clear I emptied what ammo was left in the chattergun at the gunmen and threw it onto the sidewalk. I was transitioning back to my shotgun when a surface skimmer truck came barreling in from the right. In the bed leaning over the cab were two men with rifles. More BluCorp gunmen took the field.
I fired a load of buckshot into the windshield of the truck. I missed the driver, but he swerved and crashed into the car where the other gunmen were hiding. One of the gunmen in the bed flew over the cab from the impact and landed in a heap on the pavement.
I glanced east up Dierker. In the bright lights I could see crowds of people, some oblivious to the gunfight, some panicking, and silhouetted against it all was Twisted John, jigging his way toward the crowd.
I fired a shot into the wrecked vehicles to keep anyone still in fighting shape from eyeballing me and heard another cry. It might have been fear or pain, but I didn’t give a damn. I ran back down Dierker to the first alley that would take me north.
I was down to my last few shotgun shells and Muckle was coming with more gunmen. What I could use was a tac team, or a platoon of soldiers, I thought. Then it dawned on me. I knew where I could get some backup. The trick would be to keep them from shooting me in the process, because they wouldn’t know they were on my team. The space elevator, that’s where I was headed, just as soon as I stopped by Pete’s.
I went north a few blocks then cut east and crossed Houston and went into another alley that would get me to the back door into the Café Texian. I passed behind Ugemann’s Emporium of Delights and Esoterica and would never be able to describe the noises I heard emanating from there, not to mention the smells. I picked up the pace until I was clear.
A block south of Pete’s, I punched in the comcode for the place and let him know I was coming in the back way. He was there with a warm greeting for me when I arrived.
“You look like hell. Are you the cause of all the ruckus down south?” he asked as he led me inside.
“That’s mostly just mercs and bad drivers, Pete. I’m just a tiny little piece of the machine. You should thank me, I imagine I ran some business your way.”
Pete rolled his eyes. “I suppose you did. What kind of shit did you step in now?”
“I’m not sure, bear, tiger, something big, but I’m hip deep in it.”
Pete had a bottle of water on his desk. He handed it to me.
“What do you need from me?” he asked as I drank.
“These data sticks have grade-A undiluted trouble on them,” I said pulling the sticks from my pocket.
“And you’re leaving them with me.”
“Right.” I handed him the sticks.
He closed his eyes and took on a pained look. “What do I do with them?”
“There’s some teenagers who will stop by sometime tonight and take them from you. They’ll get them to the media.”
“How will I know them?”
“Doghouse MacArthur sent them.”
“Ol’ Mac ain’t been too active lately. Good to see he’s still around. Why don’t I take these to the newsies?”
“Because—”
“Don’t say you don’t want to involve me. I’m already involved. I’ll dupe the sticks and be a contingency plan.”
“I was going to tell you it wasn’t my place to ask, but if you’re volunteering...”
Pete smiled. “You have a nasty habit of dragging me into suicide missions every so often, don’t you?”
He was right, but I ignored him. “You do me a favor and call the Security Forces at the space elevator for me a few minutes after I leave?”
“Why?”
“If those BluCorp assholes find me I’ll be outnumbered. Maybe I can get SecFor to join my team.”
“I thought you had Arc Tau on your ass,” he said. I started to tell him they were one and the same, but he waved me off. “Never mind. What makes you think the Security Forces want to be on your side? The more I think about it I’m not sure I want to be on your side.”
I ignored his comment. “I’m sure you’ll tell them something that will convince them.”
“Something convincing. That takes telling the truth off the table,” he said with a glare. “I’ll come up with something creative, old buddy.”
“I’m leaving my shotgun here also, Pete,” I said.
“Why don’t you leave yourself here while you’re at it? Have SecFor come here.”
“Because you don’t want them or the mercs shooting this place up.”
“They’d do that? This thing that big?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s some life you lead.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Just did. Don’t get yourself killed.”
“I’m trying, Pete. Thanks,” I said. I went out the back door into the dangerous night and headed west.
~~~:{o}:~~~
Chapter 15
on the QT News Service - Gulf City, Spire, Local, High Town, Riser, Midtown
Viva la Revolución?
Several incidents involving large amounts of gunfire have reportedly occurred at numerous places throughout the Gulf City Metroplex.
The largest incidents that can be confirmed are located in the Red Light portion of High Town.
One witness, albeit intoxicated, reported he was sure it was aliens. We cannot confirm that report at this time, but if true, let we at on the QT be the first to welcome our new alien overlords.
on the QT - You don’t have to like us, as long as you read us.
---o---
“He has to be headed north,” the boss man’s voice said over the headset.
“There’s that club up there his friend owns,” replied the voice of Remy, the smart guy that figured out I was setting down near the West Bridge.
“This is Lawton Muckle. Take what men you have left and sit on the club. If that asshole Johnson shows, burn him down. Do not go inside. We have far too much exposure as it is now. I’m taking the men I have with me north and we’ll work back toward you.”
“You got it,” the boss man replied.
Round two and I was in the middle again. Napoleon Bonaparte made that work for him time and again four hundred years ago, but I wasn’t French and I only led an army of me. I was worried about the hackers walking into the
BluCorp guys scoping Pete’s, so I called Hap.
“RR?” Hap answered.
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing? It’s almost like Sowtown around here, dude.”
“You in High Town?” I asked.
“Yeah. Near a place called the Skyline Diner. There’s people saying a revolution started or something.”
“Tomorrow night they’ll all be bragging about being here. Stay where you are. You’re clear of the rumpus. There’s some BluCorp thugs sitting on Pete’s, so go into the Skyline and get some pie. I’ll tell Pete the deal.”
“You got it, RR. We ain’t never had pie before.”
“Seriously? Find the head waitress, named Mavis. Tell her I sent you. She’ll set you up. Trust me, you’ll like pie.”
I called Pete and apprised him of the situation. He wanted to go deal with the BluCorp guys himself, but I thought it might draw Muckle and his gang down there and I didn’t know how many he had with him. It would be nice to have something to draw them off, but the list of people I call friend is pretty short so I didn’t want to risk it.
The alley ended at West Bridge Street. There was a scav digging through trash. When he noticed my presence he ran at me nonsensically yelling, “Stems, man, Stems.”
I pushed him aside into a pile of garbage bags and went to the end of the alley. I looked both ways before crossing the street and when I saw no sign of Muckle or his crew I ran to the other side. The scav was still shouting nonsense as he crawled from the garbage.
I stuck to the alleys working slowly to the northeast. There was no sign of Muckle’s team. I thought maybe I’d lost them when someone came over the radio and made me think again.
“Mr. Muckle, we’ve got an alley rat here that says he was attacked by a man matching Johnson’s description. The man moved north. If it is Johnson, he slipped us.”
“How long ago was this?”
“No way to tell, sir. You should see the guy, we’re lucky we got that from him.”
The damned scav used one of his few moments of lucidity to squeal me out. I should have shut his lights off when I left.
“Everyone move north to the intersection of Center and West Bridge, now!” Muckle said angrily.
I was maybe a block and a half northeast of there. I didn’t know how many pursuers there were, so I decided to move as fast as I could toward the space elevator. I ran from the alley I was in and took off down the sidewalk. I hoped they thought I was headed north. If I was wrong I’d have to alter my plan.
“What about the cops?” the boss voice asked. “We aren’t in the Red Light anymore.”
“Cops have better things to do than get killed,” Muckle replied. “I think he is moving northeast. Maybe he thinks he can get some help from the cops at the station.”
Muckle was only half right, but he had the right direction and that was a problem. They’d be coming my way by vehicle. I could try and alley crawl past them or find some transportation of my own. I took the lazy option and went looking for a ride.
Muckle and his goons were breaking into pairs and were trying to position themselves to find me.
I came to Wynn Street and went north. There were restaurants, theaters, and clubs just up the block and I hoped to grab a cab to go northeast, using it to keep as low a profile as I could manage.
“I dropped two at the corner of Dawson and Wynn and I’ll drop off another pair farther north up Wynn,” the boss man said over the headset.
Shit, I thought. They were coming right at me. I knew I needed to hurry.
“Good,” Muckle said. “He might try and blend in with the crowds. Sift him out if he does.”
A theater on the west side of the street was just letting out and there was a southbound line of cars and cabs picking up passengers.
I pushed a young couple out of the way and commandeered the cab they were about to climb into. The pair of them started raising a stink by grabbing the door of the cab, trying to keep me from closing it when I saw who the driver was. Karl.
“I just did you a favor,” I said as I wrested the door from them. “You’ll thank me later.”
I wasn’t sure if crazy was what I needed just then, but crazy was what I had.
“Where to?” Karl asked.
“The space elevator, Karl.”
He spun in his seat to engage me with an angry look. “How the fuck do you know me? I don’t... you’re one of those Ricks aren’t you?” he said leaning closer to me squinting with one quivering eye. “Okay! We’re rolling.”
I was glad he resolved that on his own, but he was going the wrong way to get me to the space elevator.
“You’re going the wrong way,” I said.
“Nope. Building three-one-three is this way. I know a couple of guys there.”
We passed right by two of Muckle’s thugs walking on the sidewalk.
“The space elevator. It’s the other way,” I yelled.
“The space elevator? Shit, I thought you were Rick. The space elevator’s the other way,” he said as he stomped on the brakes and tried to make a sliding turn. The cab thumped the curb and we ended up sitting broadside across two lanes of traffic in a cloud of tire smoke. Somehow, this attracted the attention of the BluCorp operatives.
They started walking toward us.
“Where we going?” Karl asked as some of the blocked traffic started to honk horns.
“The space elevator.”
“Say, you’re Rick. I know you.”
I drew my .45 and thumbed the safety off as the BluCorp operatives closed.
“Yeah, you do,” I said.
“I’m glad we got that settled,” he said. “Where we going?”
“Space elevator.”
“We’re going the wrong way then,” Karl said looking around. “Don’t you worry a bit! I’ll get you there.”
Karl stomped the accelerator, but the gearbox was in reverse and the front wheels were turned. He backed into the two BluCorp men and raked the side of a nearby car before he got stopped.
“Shit, sorry about that. I completely fucked that up. Eighty-six percent my fault. Don’t you worry a bit! I’ll get you there.”
He sat there with a confused look on his face.
“Space elevator,” I said.
“That’s what I was thinking.”
He stomped the accelerator and crossed into the other lane and went north.
“Johnson hijacked a cab and he’s headed north on Wynn,” one of the downed operatives said in a pained voice. I looked out the back window and caught a glimpse of them. The two BluCorp guys were down for the count. One of them was motionless while the other one writhed in pain.
“You get me there fast and I’ll give you a fat tip,” I said.
“Fast? You got it. The biggest tip I ever got was from a friend of a guy named Rick a few nights back. Talk about fast, it was home surgery my man! Valkyrie were running that night. You know Building three-one-three? That’s where them Ricks are.”
“Rick is an incurable dumbass,” I said to myself glaring at the roof liner.
“One of’em sure is,” Karl said. “There’s at least three or five of’em you know. Building an army they say. One Rick at a time.”
“I see them I think,” said the boss man over the headset. “We are behind them and closing.”
I turned around and a saw sedan maybe a hundred meters behind us.
“We are coming in the skytruck,” Muckle said. “Stay close and don’t lose him.”
The BluCorp sedan closed to fifteen or twenty meters behind us and stayed there, all the while Karl kept his foot pressed to the accelerator.
“Tailgaters,” Karl shouted, glaring into the rearview mirror. “Fucking tailgaters. Can’t stand the things. Sorry about this.”
Karl flicked the cab a bit to the left then threw the wheel over to the right sending us down Campbell Street to the east. To our right was a large plascrete drainage ditch that ran alongside the southern edge of the roadway.
The BluCorp sedan overshot the turn, but quickly reversed and was trying to catch up. To the right the skytruck carrying Muckle was paralleling us over the drainage ditch.
“He’s getting close to where the Security Forces might take an interest,” someone said over the headset.
“You’re right,” Muckle said. “Keep closing, I have a way to stop this right now.”
I thought he meant to have someone fire at us from the skytruck, but I guess at the speed we were traveling that might have been difficult. Muckle had something else in mind. The sky truck pulled ahead as the sedan behind us continued to gain.
I was watching the sedan when Karl yelled, “What the hell?”
I turned and saw the skytruck coming over the street in front of us, its braking thrusters slowing its forward travel. Muckle was going to use the truck as a roadblock.
“Oh no, not this again,” Karl said. “Fool me once, ya bastards. You might want to slouch down a little, whoever you are.”
I had to assume this must have happened to Karl at some point in his past, but I wasn’t going to ask. I did follow his advice. The last thing I saw before I slid down behind the front seat was the back of the skytruck about to impact the windshield of the cab.
“Yeehah, it’s a night for convergences!” Karl yelled from the front seat, while over the headset were curses and appeals to at least a couple of different deities. All of this occurring in a flash just before the roof of Karl’s cab was sheared off.
The cab slid to the left and then spun. I heard the grinding crash of a vehicle that I thought must have been the skytruck, but I wasn’t sure. It occurred to me in the midst of all the flying metal and grinding sounds that I could have been sitting in Pete’s just then drinking a beer and watching a ballgame instead of dying in a car wreck with Karl’s head bouncing around in the back seat with me.
It was a little late to do anything about that.
The spinning of the cab disoriented me and I had no idea where we would end up, but the cab came to a stop on a grassy slope that led down to the drainage ditch.
The Lowdown in High Town: An R.R. Johnson Novel Page 28