I noticed the wind had picked up quite a bit thanks to Karl’s new open-top cab that allowed for easy weather observations. I sat up and saw Karl was still intact in the driver’s seat, head and all, while behind us it was apparent the skytruck had been turned on its side when the cab went under it. The sedan chasing us had collided with the skytruck and the two vehicles created a tangled roadblock about twenty meters away.
“Looks like twenty-seven, fifty on the meter, man,” Karl said over his shoulder.
I laughed. “Here’s a hundred. Keep the change,” I said flipping him some scrip as I climbed out. It was going to take a lot more than that to fix his cab.
“Hey! Thanks, man. Hey who the hell are you?”
“I’m one of the Ricks. You’ll have to figure out which one,” I yelled as I ran for the space elevator.
“I thought so!” Karl yelled. “Crazy. Completely crazy.”
Despite the crash, Muckle and at least part of his gang were climbing from the wreckage. I was glad I had a head start. I was a hundred meters away when a chattergun opened up. They might as well have yelled harsh words for all the good it did. I noticed my borrowed headset was gone, knocked loose in the collision with the skytruck.
I am sure word must have spread that something was afoot because of the deserted streets and a police station that looked like it was closed for business. If the criminal element had been smarter they could have had a field day, but I had more pressing concerns than worrying about lazy cops or the sorry state of thievery.
I ran northeast until I was close to the edge of the Sky Riser. I went north and saw the fence that marked the boundary of the Space Elevator Security Zone. I would need to scale that barrier. A quick peek behind me showed that Muckle’s torpedoes were gaining on me. I needed to put a little more space between them and myself before I went up the fence, or else I’d be easy pickings, a dope on a chain link fence.
I drew my pistol and fired a pair of shots at my pursuers. The BluCorp operatives dove for cover behind some nearby vehicles. I ran at the fence as I holstered my pistol and started climbing. Somebody opened up with a chattergun. The polymer slugs zipped by a little too close for comfort, a couple of them striking the chain link, so when I cleared the top of the fence I dropped to the ground and hit like a sack of crap.
I didn’t feel very well because I felt as if my hips had been driven into my shoulders on landing, but I got to my feet anyway. I wasn’t moving very fast, but I was over the fence and would be in cover before Team BluCorp took to the new playing field. I just hoped Pete did something to convince the Security Forces that I wasn’t a terrorist.
I ran into a parking area where there were numerous military trucks, including some light armored vehicles. I looked back and saw most of the BluCorp team was over the fence and coming my way. I ran amongst the vehicles looking for a place to lose my pursuers. I found it strange that there was no sign of any Security Forces patrols considering we were in the restricted area. I thought they would have come down on us like vultures on a roadkill deer by now.
I ran down a ramp that led to another group of vehicles, mostly larger trucks and armored personnel carriers. I thought they would provide good cover and concealment and lead me closer to the Security Forces headquarters. I was wrong. I managed to box myself in.
By the time I realized the ramp was the only way in and out, Muckle’s torpedoes were already in the same area looking for me. I went to the left trying to sneak through back to the ramp. I knew the wind would help mask any sound I might make, but it would also do the same for the BluCorp operatives.
I thought I heard something, so I tucked myself in between the tall tires of a large four-wheeled truck. I could see a shadow coming across the front of the vehicle growing longer as the man approached. The person was closing on me. I drew my pistol and thumbed the safety off.
Muckle came around the corner of the vehicle an arm’s length away. “Don’t move,” I said quietly.
Muckle glanced at me and saw the muzzle of my pistol trained on his head. He dropped his weapon. I could see the skytruck wreck hadn’t done his suit any favors.
Within seconds, a pair of his thugs were there with their weapons trained on me. In no time the rest of the crew joined the party. Muckle slowly turned to face me. He looked a little smug. “You won’t get out of this one, Johnson.”
“Maybe not, but you’ll go just before me. I’ll tell them at the gate what a shitty character you are.”
He stopped smirking. “I guess we are at an impasse.”
“Looks that way.”
I decided I was taking Muckle with me if the shooting started, so I had my sights trained on his face. His remaining torpedoes had enough firepower aimed at me to blow me into small, cooked, bits. An impasse all right.
“You are in a restricted area,” an amplified voice boomed at us as spotlights came on, blinding us. “Security Forces. Place your weapons on the ground then put your hands in the air.”
They were waiting for us. Pete must have told them something that got them on the ball.
Through small gaps in the blinding light, I could see Security Forces troops with all manner of weapons trained on us. If they fired on us we wouldn’t be small bits, we’d be utterly obliterated. I took two steps backwards and slowly put my pistol on the ground. The BluCorp crew took a little more persuading.
“Weapons on the ground, Now!” came the amplified voice. “I will burn you off the planet in three seconds if you do not comply.” Apparently, that was enough to convince the rest of them.
Within moments of the last blaster hitting the plascrete Security Forces troops swarmed down on us. They gathered the weapons from the ground and one of them said, “All clear, sir.”
A Security Forces captain stepped into the gap between Muckle and I and said, “I am Captain Redmond, Security Forces. What is the meaning of this?” He didn’t look happy. He was the Space Elevator Security Contingent Commander. I’d seen him at the hospital a few days before.
“This man has stolen property belonging to BluCorp and the Gulf City government,” Muckle said pointing at me.
“And just who are you and who are the people with you?” the captain asked, glaring at Muckle and the BluCorp thugs.
“I am Lawton Muckle. Security Chief of BluCorp and these are duly recognized and authorized security agents working on behalf of the Metroplex,” Muckle said gesturing at his torpedoes.
“Corporate security working for the metroplex?” The captain looked skeptical. “Even if that were true, you are not duly authorized or recognized to be within the Space Elevator Security Zone.”
“Now you just wait a min—” the captain cut him off by pointing his finger at Muckle.
The captain looked at me. “What is your name?”
“Johnson. R.R. Johnson, private eye,” I said.
“He is a damned thief and a traitor. I need the stolen property returned to me now,” Muckle said. The captain glanced at him, but otherwise ignored Muckle’s comment.
The captain was giving me an odd look, scared and angry, like he’d seen an apparition. “Are you Sergeant Johnson. Sergeant First Class Richard Johnson from the GC Army 1st Division?” he asked.
“Yeah, I was a sergeant once upon a time, but I’m told Johnson’s a pretty common name,” I replied.
The captain paused for a moment. “There was only one Sergeant Richard Johnson that led the rescue force at Salla Wadi. You were there. You’re him.”
The war in the sand. He was right about Salla Wadi, but I wasn’t the only guy that took part.
“What are you, army buddies? My data sticks if you please, then you two can reminisce to your heart’s content, Captain,” Muckle said.
“Mr. Muckle, Sergeant Johnson here went against direct orders and led a rescue force that saved the lives of forty-three soldiers. Command had given up on those forty-three.” The captain pointed at me using his whole hand. “He didn’t give up. He and his men got every single soldi
er out of there. The wounded that couldn’t walk were taken out in a commandeered supply truck.”
“And what difference does it make now? Something that happened two decades ago has no bearing on tonight. I have a court order right here ordering the immediate return of the data sticks. Read it and give me my fucking data, Captain,” Muckle spat as he slapped a folded paper into the captain’s chest.
BluCorp must have had a judge in their pocket to get something like that so fast and with no evidence to support the issuance of such an order, I thought.
The captain calmly took the paper and began tearing the document into pieces, letting the swirling wind carry them far up into the air in all directions. It would not have surprised me if most of it blew over the side of the Sky Tower.
“What are you doing?” Muckle said incredulously. “Are you insane? I’ll have another copy here in minutes. In fact I’ll call the Metroplex Governor right now,” Muckle barked as he reached into his dirty suit jacket.
The captain drew his sidearm and pointed it at Muckle’s face. Muckle froze with a look of astonishment. “If anything besides your hand comes out of that jacket, Mr. Muckle, I’ll blow a tunnel through your head. The wounded men at Salla Wadi I mentioned? I was one of them.”
Muckle complied, but he wasn’t finished. “The Governor will have your head for this. The data this man stole could do incalculable damage to Gulf City. That was a court order.”
“Enough, Muckle. I have no court order so we’ll need to sort this out won’t we? If we find any stolen data we will secure it and turn it over to Gulf City authorities.”
“That’s—”
Redmond cut him off. “Sergeant Baker, take the BluCorp folks to detention. I will be along shortly. Mr. Johnson, come with me,” he said, gesturing toward a nearby Security Forces armored personnel carrier.
As we walked I looked over my shoulder and saw the SecFor troops leading the BluCorp people away.
“Don’t you find it strange your captain knows that asshole? He’s in on it.” Muckle was yelling at the sergeant.
No soiree for Muckle tonight, just a Security Forces detention cell.
I remembered Salla Wadi. It was one of the few things we did that worked out even though some of us caught hell for it. I knew I had seen the captain somewhere before. It just went to show that not every good deed comes back and bites you in the ass.
“Do you have the data sticks?” the captain asked.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t.”
“I won’t ask you if you know where they are. If you did have the data, hypothetically, can you assure me this data won’t topple the metroplex?”
“I think BluCorp will be in some major trouble and I am sure there are some metroplex officials with fingers in the pie that might get stung, but no toppling of governments... hypothetically.”
“It seems you like to break the rules,” he said suppressing a smile.
“Yeah, I suppose it does, when the rules are wrong at least.”
“Wrong rules, right reasons?” He glanced at the procession of Muckle and his thugs being led up the ramp surrounded by Security Forces troops. “Good enough for me, Sarge.”
Redmond gestured toward the ramp and we walked that way followed by two lower enlisted troopers who had been lurking nearby. “Well, if you don’t have the data on your person then I see no reason to hold you, but you will probably need to explain why you entered the restricted area and were having a standoff with BluCorp security personnel. I’m sure it’s quite a tale. That can wait a day or two. I am sure there are many people who will want to ask you a lot of questions so don’t skip town. Okay, Sarge?”
“Where would I go? If you’re ever in the Red Light I’ll buy you a drink sometime.”
“I’ll do the buying, but I’ll take you up on that. That’s the least I could do. I’m new to High Town, any decent bars around?”
“A lot of them, but the best one in Gulf City is Pete’s Café Texian. Just inside the Red Light on Houston Street. The supply truck at Salla Wadi was his and it was volunteered, not commandeered.”
“I’ll be damned,” the captain said with a wry grin. “This might be a big city, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t a small world.”
The same sergeant that took the BluCorp team into detention returned my .45 to me and escorted me out of the Security Zone. He told me any friend of the captain’s was okay in his book.
The running gunfight and crashing vehicles had led most people and businesses in High Town to batten down the hatches, including the cabs, so I had a long walk back. The cops still hadn’t crawled out of whatever hole they were hiding in.
I should have told the nice sergeant I needed to borrow one of their armored cars.
A few blocks from the Red Light, I found one brave or stupid soul out nosing around. It was Phil Radan, from on the QT. “Johnson. I should have known,” he said as I approached. “C’mon, spill. What the hell was this rumpus about?” he said waving his arms around. “I’m hearing tales of skycars falling from the sky, firefights across the city, the SecFor guys at the space elevator going on full alert, and now I see you walking all by your lonesome on a night such as this. What gives?”
“I may be up to my ass in criminal charges, so I ought to keep my mouth shut.”
“The court of public opinion is in session first thing in the morning, Rick. You can set the narrative. If your version of what happened hits the news services first and all those people out there wake up in the morning wondering what the hell went down last night and hear your tale first...”
I flicked my hand to signal him to walk along with me. “I better not see a single quote from me in your piece, you hack.”
“How could you? I got all my info from two or three well-placed and unnamed sources. One of those unnamed sources gave me some data sticks with a shit ton of stuff on them. Might have been a respected small business owner you know, but I ain’t saying anything more. My staff is going over it, but how in the hell do corporate financials tie into shootouts and car chases in the Red Light? And how is it going to compete with the rescue of the Savans for news space?”
“Dig a little deeper. There’s more.” I said. “The kidnappings are a part of the BluCorp story, and BluCorp is the story.” I spent the rest of the time it took to walk to my office giving Radan the lowdown on the whole affair.
Apparently, the denizens of the Red Light were more resilient than folks in other parts of High Town, because the streets were once again crowded. Maybe they were just stupid.
“I was hoping for something simpler,” Radan said as we stood on the steps in front of Building 313. “Human bodies are being recycled and used for food, the Ultrabeef burgers at Bolt 2 the Head are not actually cow meat, that kind of thing. This ball of crap you started rolling is going to be work.”
“You sound as if you’re disappointed,” I replied.
“I guess I am. I like items that are easy to splash as a headline. We’ll be sifting through this stuff for days. It better not be run-of-the-mill, Johnson.”
“Run-of-the-mill? Look at what you have: international information brokers; corruption; corporate greed; betrayal involving millions upon millions of creds, governments around the world, and big business. It was important enough to BluCorp that they were willing to kidnap one of their own board members and his wife, murder a lawyer in a foreign land, bribe cops, manipulate judges and city officials, and use mercs to chase my dumb ass over half of Gulf City guns a’blazing. If that’s run-of-the-mill I better read on the QT a little closer from now on.”
Radan smiled broadly. “I’m going to hire you to write copy, Rick. Where is the Foster incident in all that muck?” he said as he punched a comcode into his phone.
“Sector seven-seven-six-dash-two-A. It’s pretty brutal. I’m not—”
“Forget writing copy, I’ll hire you as a director,” he said as he slapped me on the back and put his phone to his ear. “June, Sector seven-seven-six-dash-two-A. Bring
it up toot sweet. We’ve got something big. We’ll lead with it,” he said as he descended the stairs.
“Yeah, Sweety, it bleeds!” he said as he smiled at me and waved as he went down the sidewalk.
I shook my head and went inside.
I went upstairs to my office and called Pete to thank him for his help, then Lacey to let her know I was still alive. I told them I planned to sleep for the rest of the year, but I only made it until noon the next day.
By then the news—with Radan’s story getting picked up worldwide and leading the way—about BluCorp’s dealings had broken wide open and the vid of Foster’s murder was played over and over on every vid channel all day and beyond. Things got real ugly real fast for BluCorp.
The hacker teens had distributed the data they had to other media outlets and several times a day for a while, new stories popped up that kept BluCorp’s name and reputation in a downward spiral, and the kidnapping and rescue of the Savans got buried in it all.
I was almost sure Muckle’s progress up the social ladder was stalled, at least until he got out of prison.
Mrs. Savan didn’t want to pay my bill, but when I finally spoke with her I told her a deal is a deal. I lied and told her I still had more items the press might be interested to learn of and reminded her we had a contract. She came through with a small part of it. I wasn’t sure which argument convinced her to pay, but it didn’t really matter. I considered it a down payment.
The day after the credits showed up in my bank account the government froze or seized damned near all of the assets belonging to BluCorp’s senior executives and that was the end of that. I don’t know what I would have done with that much money anyway.
A dozen Gulf City agencies wanted statements from me, and a couple of foreign powers wanted to speak with me as well. I told them I’d consider talking when I received a subpoena.
I figured if I could keep my ass out of prison I’d consider the whole thing a success. I had probably earned a lot of credit with the hackers, Security Forces, hookers, patriots, and all the little people that hated the rich or big business. That high esteem would last maybe three or four days. Maybe. I guessed I would fade back into obscurity, and that was fine with me. A PI functions best as a wallflower.
The Lowdown in High Town: An R.R. Johnson Novel Page 29