* * *
Blackzone District Petrobacterial Sewage Processing Plant #37 didn’t look any better than the day a rogue cyborg armed with an experimental particle cannon had rampaged through it. The Regional Police managed to shut down the borg before it completely destroyed the facility, but only just. Tax revenues from the Blackzone weren’t high enough to warrant repairs, so three of the four bacteria tanks languished, empty and inoperable, while the last labored to process four times its capacity. On some days, it failed and the crap backed up and spewed into the plant and surrounding streets.
Like today.
Bunny’s nose wrinkled at the stench. He reached under his jacket, feeling the blood-soaked cloth he had taped to his shoulder. Once again his dwarvish stamina helped him endure the injury, but his left arm was numb and difficult to move.
Cut, shot, wet, and slogging through filth, he shook his head. Things couldn’t get much worse.
He labored up a wobbly stair to a mesh gantry. Years of disrepair had left the platform weak and, unable to support his weight. It collapsed. Bunny slid toward the open channel below. Chunky sewage burbled along, slowly piping into the processing tanks where genetically engineered bacteria consumed it and excreted clean-burning petroleum.
Unwilling to release his hold on the case, he couldn’t stop his descent with his left arm.
“Crap!” he screamed as he neared the drop into the channel.
Someone grabbed his injured arm and pulled him onto a narrow ledge.
“You should be more careful, Kensington.”
His vision blurred with pain, but Bunny still recognized the voice. He patted his savior on the shoulder.
“Thanks, Noose.”
“You’re messed up tonight.” Noose helped the injured dwarf across the damaged platform toward the stairs. Despite the rain, he clenched a short cigar in his thin lips.
“You would be too if you had every gang in the Blackzone gunning for your hoop.” Once again safe on a stronger section of the platform, Bunny sat down with a groan. “Thanks for coming.”
“I would have been here sooner, but I had to dump some tails. That little call of yours got blasted all over Diablo’s. Wasn’t a dead neorat didn’t know I was fading to meet you. Lucky for you nobody can follow me when I don’t want to be followed.”
Bunny frowned and said nothing.
Noose took a long pull on his cigar and looked around the dilapidated sewage plant. “This place brings back memories, doesn’t it? Bad memories.”
The injured dwarf squirmed but remained silent.
“Looks like you’ve lost a lot of blood.” Noose knelt and pulled Bunny’s coat away from his wound. The dwarf did not argue, nor did he relinquish his hold on the metal case. “We’ve got to fix you up before we can do anything. A crapyard’s not the best place for first aid, but I brought some supplies with me.”
Noose pulled out a can of antiseptic spray and several med patches. Within a few minutes he had Bunny’s bullet and knife wounds disinfected, patched, and anesthetized. Lastly, he injected Bunny with nanite medbots that would repair the tissue damage.
“Thanks,” Bunny said as he pulled his jacket back on.
“You’re welcome. Now, let’s have that money.” Noose reached for the case.
“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” Bunny cried, pulling the case to his side.
“We made a deal, and I’m going to make sure you have the money to pay for my services.”
“You get the money when I’m out of the metroplex!”
“No. I verify your assets first. Rumor has it you’ve got a load of cash cards in there, but I don’t take grab-bags. Pop the case, or I’m lost memory.”
Bunny looked at the case, then back at Noose. Finally, with a sigh, he nodded and opened the case on his lap, turning it for Noose to see.
Inside, two-dozen certified cash cards gleamed in foamed slots. Fully ten times that many slots held nothing, a fact which Noose noted immediately.
“What the Hell is this?” He pulled a card from the case and examined the digital readout. “Ten thousand each? Where’s the rest?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, this is all there was when I grabbed it! It wasn’t full to begin with.”
“You lie bad, Kensington. The syndicate wouldn’t be screaming bloody terror for a measly quarter mil. Word is you snatched closer to four meg.”
“It ain’t true! This is all I got!”
“Bull!” Noose stomped around the platform. “You stashed the rest before you got here. It’s somewhere safe. Somewhere you can get to when the heat’s died down. Well, you can just tell me where it is now. I’m not helping you for less than half of it.”
“Are you kidding?” Bunny objected. “Two million just to get me out of Atlanta? That’s insane.”
Noose spun around. “And you’re rat meat if I don’t help you! You got one chance to finish tonight upright, Kensington. Tell me where you stashed the rest of the gleamers.”
“I’ll give you a hundred grand. That’s more than enough.”
Noose pulled a Glock Stormer 11mm out from beneath his duster. “You’re not in a position to negotiate. Now squawk, or I’ll rip that case from your stiff fingers!”
Bunny clamped his mouth shut and stared into Noose’s eyes.
The mercenary dwarf scowled. “I never knew you had a spine, Bunny. Too bad I’m not bluffing.”
Bunny’s eyes widened in terror as Noose raised his heavy pistol and took careful aim on his head. A shot, crisp and clear even in the rain. Bunny jumped in an involuntary release of tension, and watched as Noose stumbled backward. Another bullet hit him in the shoulder and he fell onto the collapsed platform. He slid over the edge and into the roiling sewage. He did not resurface.
Heart hammering in his chest, Bunny slowly turned around, squinting in fear. A dozen punks in red leather boots and neon-painted jackets approached. Leading them, with a smoking rifle in his hands and a wide grin on his toothy face, was Urgo.
Dead Dwarves, Dirty Deeds Page 10