KAT AND MOUSE: GUNS FOR HIRE -- A cyberpunk action-adventure serial

Hiatus Until Further Notice

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Tue, 19 Feb 2013 09:00:00 +0000

Due to certain personal circumstances that have recently taken place, the serial will now take an extended hiatus until further notice.

I can't, in good conscience, continue to chronicle the Duo's escapades while my "headspace" is focused elsewhere. So rather than give you guys mediocre stories, I have decided to take a break for the moment.

I hope to come back here with more adventures as soon as possible.

But I don't know when that will be.

Many thanks to everyone who has been following the Ladies, whether recently or from their very first adventure. I am thrilled to have provided endless entertainment every Monday.

Best,
Abner

"Ties That Bind" - Part Nine

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 18 Feb 2013 09:00:00 +0000

"We want Rachel," I said and popped my optic clock. "You've got four minutes."

"You just said five minutes," said Jeffries.

"Clock's running," said Mouse. "I'd hurry up."

Jeffries leveled a piercing glare at Mouse.

She shrugged it off.

He leveled the same glare at me, the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching.

No one moved.

Silence.

Checked the clock.

"Three minutes," I said.

Glanced at Jeffries's muscle. Their brows glistened with sweat.

Then a door slammed somewhere above, followed by running footsteps.

A moment later, Rachel appeared at the bend halfway down the staircase and her eyes went wide. "Kat! Mouse!"

Jeffries whirled and craned his head up toward Rachel. "Rachel! Get out of here."

Then Rachel was running down the staircase, across the foyer, and up to me and Mouse.

"Stay behind us," I said.

She nodded and took a step back.

So did Mouse.

The two muscle glanced at Jeffries.

He didn't moved but stared at us and emotions battled across his features.

"Thank you, Mr. Jeffries," I said. "You've been very cooperative."

Jeffries snarled. "You're gonna pay for this."

"You already paid us," said Mouse. "Remember?"

"Fuck you!" he said.

Mouse wagged a finger at him. "Temper temper."

Jeffries lunged toward us.

And Bonnie was out and leveled at his head.

He skidded to a stop.

Then the two muscle reached for their sidearms.

Fabric rustled and snapped, and each muscle sprouted a pair of slim throwing knives in the upper arm. They staggered back, yelping in pain, and clutching their arms.

"Better," I said. Then pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket and dialed.

Fast Eddie answered on the first ring. "Yeah?"

"Me," I said.

"Got it," he said and hung up.

I put the phone back in my pocket. Looked at the two muscle.

They looked away, faces twisted in pain.

Turned to Jeffries. "Good-bye, Mr. Jeffries," I said and started walking backwards toward the front door, keeping myself between Jeffries and Rachel, Bonnie still aimed at his head.

Jeffries watched us, a feral expression on his face.

"This isn't over," he said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, it is," I said.

He stabbed a finger at us. "You walk out that door, Rachel, and that's it. You're through."

"I walked out that door a long time ago, Dad," said Rachel.

And the three of us went through the front door, closed it behind us, and made for the Shelby.

*   *   *
After making sure no one from the Jeffries house was following us, I drove back to the Red Dog.

Halfway there, my phone chriped.

Specs.

"Did you get it for us?" I said.

"I did," Specs replied in his reedy tenor. "Whole shebang. And you owe me big."

"How big?"

"Five big."

"That much?"

"You wanted a rush job," said Specs. "That's a rush job."

"Christ," I said.

"And you're good for it, right? I told my guy you were good for it. Please tell me you're good for it. I hope to hell you're good for it."

"I'm good for it."

"Thank god. And where the hell have you been keeping that kind of money?"

"Savings."

"Like hell you have a bank account."

"Bank of Revell," I said.

"Oh. Well, that's different."

"How'd it get to be so much?" I said. "Last time it was less than that."

"Last time was a different guy," said Specs. "And he owed me a favor. This guy doesn't."

"Okay okay. So how long will it be?"

"Two hours."

I checked my optic clock.

17:42:12

Still enough time.

"Fine," I said. "We'll be at the usual spot."

"I'll bring it by," said Specs and hung up.

"So how much?" said Mouse.

"It's fine," I said.

"How much was what?" said Rachel.

"Full IDs," said Mouse.

"What?" said Rachel.

"Don't worry about it," I said.

"How much?" said Mouse. "I heard you say something about big."

"Okay okay," I said. "Five."

"Five what?" said Mouse.

"Five million," I said.

"Oh, shit!" said Rachel.

"And you fronted that?" said Mouse. "We're not a fucking charity, Kat. No offense, Rachel."

"None taken," said Rachel. "She's right. That's too much. I need to pay you back for that."

"You're a smart girl," said Mouse.

"I can pay in installments," said Rachel. "Will that work?"

"Listen to the girl," said Mouse.

"You can pay back five million credits?" I said.

"I'll figure something out," said Rachel. "I'm a smart girl."

"That's the spirit," Mouse said.

"Fine," I said. "Installments. We'll work it all out back at the Red Dog."

"Good," said Rachel, and she put a hand on my shoulder. "And thank you for coming to get me. Both of you."

"It's what we do," I said.

She squeezed my shoulder, then I heard her settle back into her seat.

*   *   *
"Her dad and the Alliance?" I said.

"Only if she misses a payment," said Mouse, closing the Red Dog's back door.

We were back at the bar, standing in the rear hallway. Rachel had gone ahead to the back office where Joshua had been staying.

I leaned against the nearest wall and hooked my thumbs into my gear belt. "You're probably right."

"I am," said Mouse.

"Don't get a big head."

"We're still a business. Can't be giving everything away."

"I know, I know."

"I mean, we've got expenses to consider. Ammo. Cleaning supplies. Mod maintenance. Gear upgrades and replacement. Food."

"I knew you were going to bring up food."

"I told you--there's no way in hell I'm eating kibble."

"Where's your sense of adventure?" I said.

"Don't make me hurt you," said Mouse.

--END--

NEXT TIME: "Sins of the Father"

"Ties That Bind" - Part Eight

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 11 Feb 2013 09:00:00 +0000

"Seriously?" said Mouse.

"Seriously," I said.

We were back in our shared flat above the Red Dog Bar.

I finished reloading magazines for the Twins and tucked them into the ammo pouches on my gear belt. The last two magazines I slid into each of the pistols, racked the slides, and holstered them.

"We've still got a contract with Rachel," I said. "Unfinished."

"Well, yeah..." said Mouse.

"Plus, we've already seen their security," I said. "Which is crap."

"Don't say it's gonna be cake," said Mouse. "You know it's never cake. Besides, how do you know Rachel's even gonna be at the house."

"I'm playing a hunch," I said.

"Your hunches blow monkey balls," said Mouse.

"But they're never wrong."

"Don't get a big head."

* * *

I checked on Joshua in the Red Dog's back office.

He was finally upright and sitting on the couch nursing a steaming mug.

Revell, standing nearby, said, "Is hot cocoa."

"He gonna live?" I said.

Revell grinned. "Da. Maybe slight concussion. Nothing more."

I turned to Joshua. "We need to talk."

He sipped the cocoa, then nodded.

"I will be in bar," Revell said and left the office.

After the door closed, I perched on the edge of the office desk and said, "Tell me about the Alliance cell in the city."

* * *

An hour and a half later, after getting a loaner from Specs and leaving Joshua at the Red Dog under Revell's watchful eye, we were headed back to the Hills.

"Please tell me," said Mouse, "you had enough time to think up a plan."

"I did," I said.

"And?"

I told her.

When I finished she said, "Just like that?"

"Yeah," I said.

"And you think it'll work."

"Monkey ball-blowing hunch."

She gave a small chuckle. "Wiz," she said.

* * *

We had been standing for about five minutes in the huge marble-tiled foyer of the Jeffries mansion. Double-doors with ornate handles flanked us on either side. Ahead and to our left, a staircase wound up along one wall and lead to the floor above. Directly above, a crystal chandelier. Directly in front, a simple door.

The muscle who had answered the front door stood off to one side and faced us at an angle, the same blank expression on his face.

"You could smile once in a while," Mouse said to him. "I'm sure it's allowed."

"Don't pester the man," I said. "He's just doing his job."

"He could at least do it with a little personality."

"Hush."

"And where's Jeffries? You'd think he'd hurry up. I mean, he's got guests waiting."

"It's a delaying tactic."

"It's rude."

A few seconds later, the door directly in front of us opened and Jeffries emerged accompanied by another muscle, this one in a dark gray double-breasted suit.

"About damn time," said Mouse. "You could've at least offered us something to drink while we waited."

Jeffries put both hands in his front pants pockets and looked at us for a moment. Then he said: "I thought I was perfectly clear on the phone. This is no longer your affair. Stay out of it or I will inform the police."

"We heard you just fine," I said. "But my partner and I still have a contract to fulfill."

He frowned. "Your part was done. Our contract is completed."

"Our contract isn't with you, Mr. Jeffries. It's with your daughter."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he said and started toward us.

I held up a hand and he stopped in mid-step. "I wouldn't come any closer," I said.

"Why?" said Jeffries. "Are you going to shoot me?" He gestured to his muscle and grinned. "My men will gun you down where you stand."

"You're in the way of us fulfilling our contract," I said. "We can't have that."

"What contract?" he said. "What did my stupid daughter do this time?"

"We're giving you a great opportunity to cooperate with us," I said.

"Cooperate?" said Jeffries, wide-eyed, his voice going up a few octaves. "Do you two know who I am? And do you have any idea what I can do to you?"

"I have a phone in my pocket, Mr. Jeffries," I said. "If I don't make a call to a waiting party in five minutes, news agencies will find out about a child you fathered with the daughter of an Alliance official. They'll also find out about a group of Alliance operatives you've allowed to gain entry to Bay City with the purpose of infiltrating the CFS and taking down its government."

A mixture of emotions flashed across Jeffries's face. Then he sneered. "You're bluffing."

(to be continued...)

"Ties That Bind" - Part Seven

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 04 Feb 2013 09:00:00 +0000

Mouse and I were just walking out of Mal's Place when a voice cried out: "Kat! Help!"

Rachel.

Spun toward the direction of her voice.

Spotted Rachel and Joshua in the hands of two burly dark-suited muscle--one had a limp Joshua over a shoulder, the other had Rachel in a bearhug, her arms pinned, but her legs lashing out in as many directions as possible.

The muscle were taking them toward a pair of waiting dark sedans.

Two more muscle standing near them whirled toward us, submachineguns in hand, rising up to firing position.

Peds around them scattered, screaming. Street vendors dove behind their porta-booths.

Subvocal.

And the world slid into slo-mo.

Darted to my right, the Twins leaping into my hands and tracking, jumped onto the hood of the car parked at the curb, then onto the roof, bolted toward the sub-gun toting muscle.

The Twins belched thunder and fire.

Four rounds caught the nearest muscle in the center of his chest.

He sprayed blood and folded in a heap.

The second muscle got his sub-gun up, its muzzle flashing, trying to sweep an arc of fire.

Vaulted onto the next car, closing.

The Twins tracked again, roared twice each.

Caught the muscle low in the gut and hip.

He went down, his shots going wild, stitching across the side of the parked cars, then flying skyward.

Spotted Rachel in the back seat of the lead sedan, staring at me with wide, watery eyes, terror etched on her face.

Leaped from the parked car onto the lead sedan's hood, landing there at the same time Mouse did.

Then the sedan flew backwards in a screech of smoking tires, and Mouse and I tumbled off.

Hit the pavement in a roll, came up in a low crouch.

Then bolted after sedan.

It rocketed backwards toward the intersection of Oxford and 46th, swerved to a stop, its hood pointing west on 46th, then lurched forward.

I was almost at the intersection when a car horn blared.

Looked.

Saw the hood of MetroCab about to sideswipe me.

It squealed to a stop.

I leaped, vaulting onto and sliding across the hood on my hip, off the other side, and caught myself before getting pancaked by a white box truck heading east.

The truck screeched to one side, horn blaring, braked, and skidded to a stop.

"Hey!"

Turned. Saw the cab driver get out of his car, face a mask of anger, and start toward me.

I gave him the Look.

He stopped in mid-step, his face blanching, turned, got back in his cab, and took off.

Mouse jogged up to me, a grin on her face. "You scared him," she said.

"Bad people skils," I said, looking down 46th.

I couldn't see the sedan anymore.

Dammit.

"Anything?" said Mouse.

I shook my head. "Gone."

"Only Rachel," said Mouse. "I nailed the one carrying Joshua. And the other shooter."

"And Joshua?"

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "Leaning next to the Shelby. Still out cold."

"Good," I said. "One less person to worry about."

"You think this was Jeffries?"

"Yeah," I said. "But I can't figure out how the hell he found..."

And then a thought struck.

"Sonofabitch," I said.

Mouse quirked an eyebrow at me. "What?"

I reached into the outer pocket of my jacket and pulled out a cellphone.

The same cellphone Jeffries had given us.

The same cellphone I used to tell him we'd found Rachel.

Mouse's eyes went wide when she saw the phone.

"Same phone?" she said.

"Yup," I said.

"You didn't toss it afterwards?"

"Slipped my mind."

"Murphy would be horrified."

I shot her a dirty look.

"I'm not the one who forgot," she said.

"Leave it alone, Mouse," I said.

Then the phone chirped.

Mouse and I exchanged looks.

I answered it.

It was Jeffries.

"You need to stay out of this," he said. "Or I'll bring in law enforcement. I know you two don't want to tangle with that mess."

"You a mind reader now, Mr. Jeffries?" I said.

"Don't force my hand," he said and hung up.

I held the phone out in front of me and looked at it.

"That was short," said Mouse.

"He seemed...upset," I said.

"Y'think?"

I dropped the phone on the ground and dug my boot heel into it. It made a nice crunching sound.

"Now you know," said Mouse. "And knowing's half the battle."

I glared at her.

She shrugged. "So what's our next move?"

I headed back toward the Shelby. "Tell you in a bit. Let's bounce."

"You do have a move, right?" said Mouse, falling in step.

"I'm working on it," I said.

"Dammit, Kat..." she said.

(to be continued...)

"Ties That Bind" - Part Six

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 28 Jan 2013 09:00:00 +0000

Tony Two-Tone, tall and rangy with a fake tan, his white-blonde hair in a military-style flattop, was sitting at a table at the very back of the bar dressed in his customary outfit: black blazer and pants, and white shirt, its wide collar lying atop the blazer's lapels.

He looked up as Mouse and I approached.

At the same time, Tony's muscle stepped out of the shadows and took up a spot just behind and to one side. Female. My height. Black under a black leather trenchcoat. Olive-skinned. Dark hair in a short burr. Mirrorshades.

A quick pop to thermo showed standard mods on her. Dermal. Boosters. Headware. Also implant blades.

We exchanged small nods.

Professional.

Tony grinned at us. "Kat and Mouse, isn't it?" he said. "Never figured on seeing you here. Didn't really think it's your style."

"We're here for a refund," I said.

He quirked an eyebrow at us and scratched his chin. "Refund? I don't recall doing business with you."

"You were meeting someone here between 14:30 and 15:30."

"Maybe. I meet lots of people here. At various times during the day."

"They were coming here for a pair of IDs," I said.

"I get tons of those requests. Hard to keep track who's who, you know?"

"Do we really have to do it that way?" I said.

"Let's do it that way," said Mouse.

"Shame to stain that white shirt of yours," I said.

"Red's a good contrast color," said Mouse.

Tony's grinned dropped a notch. "I wouldn't appreciate that. Neither would Holly back here." He inclined his head toward the female muscle just behind him.

"No?" I said.

"No," said Tony.

I looked at Holly.

She gave a small shake of her head.

I let out a long sigh. "Could get ugly," I said, still looking at Holly. "I don't think you want ugly, do you?"

"Say yes, Holly," said Mouse and I heard her step slightly to one side.

Holly said nothing. But I noticed sweat beading on her forehead. The corner of her mouth twitched.

"No," I said. "Holly doesn't want ugly."

"Too bad," said Mouse.

I turned back to Tony.

He was also sweating.

"Well?" I said to him.

His grin turned lopsided and he gave a weak chuckle. "Maybe you're right. Ugly would be bad."

"Smart move, Tony," I said.

"But if I give you the refund, I'll be out two fifty. Don't seem fair."

"Biz isn't fair," said Mouse.

"And you get tons of these requests," I said. "This is nothing. Besides, they were expecting the full package."

Tony gave a start. "Full? They didn't tell me that."

"What did they tell you?" I said.

"Was a referral from out of town," said Tony. "Just that they needed a pair of IDs. Guy called me. Gave half up front to Holly. I told them where to go and when to pick up. He said he was showing up with his girl. Not a peep about full background. That's way outta my league." Tony pursed his lips in thought, then said: "Okay. I'll refund on one condition."

"No condition," I said. "Refund. Two hundred fifty thousand. Don't waste our time. Or we all get ugly."

I heard Mouse slide further sideways. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her wiggle her fingers.

Finger wiggles usually came just before flying blades.

Holly, forehead glistening with sweat, looked between me and Mouse, then at Tony. She cleared her throat. "Uh...boss?" she said, her voice cracking a little.

"What?" said Tony, still looking at me.

"I think you should give them the refund," said Holly.

Tony's eyes went to slits. He turned in his seat to look at Holly. "I'm not paying you for your advice."

"Listen to her, Tony," I said.

Tony spun back toward me, jabbed a finger in my direction, and opened his mouth to say something.

A pair of slim throwing blades erupted in the center of the table.

Tony made a sound like a gurgled scream and pushed back from the table, the chair legs howling across the floor.

All noise in the room ground to a halt.

Holly held up both hands, palms out, and looked at me.

I gave her a small nod.

She returned the nod, shot a disgusted look at Tony, and walked past me and Mouse toward the bar.

Tony stared at the two blades embedded in the center of the table, his mouth slightly agape.

"Well?" I said.

Tony blinked, then looked up at me. "Yeah, sure," he said. "Whatever you want."

"Done," I said and smiled at him.

He flinched.

(to be continued...)

"Ties That Bind"
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Part 5 | Part 7

"Ties That Bind" - Part Five

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 21 Jan 2013 09:00:00 +0000

The sign for the westbound entrance of Highway 610 flashed past us in a splash of green and white.

Quarter of a mile.

"Almost there," I said.

And gunfire cracked across the Shelby's back window.

Rachel and Joshua yelped and I heard them duck down in the back seat.

I silently thanked Tinker for the armored glass.

"Stay down, you two," I said.

"Okay," said Joshua.

"Mouse," I said.

"Already there," said Mouse. She shoved herself partway out the passenger side window, hooked one leg through the seat belt, and sat on the windowsill, half-turned toward the car behind us, and let off several quick bursts.

Saw the car behind us slew to one side, trying to evade fire.

Mouse's return fire stitched the ground near the car's front wheels, bits of pavement geysering.

Then the other pursuit car appeared, shooting around the bend two hundred meters in front of us, just past the freeway entrance. Automatic fire flashed from the passenger side window.

Rounds stitched a line across the top edge of the Shelby's windshield.

"Fuck," I said.

"No fair!" Mouse yelled into the Shelby and went back to firing at the the car in back.

Another burst from the car in front sparked along the driver's side.

I fought back a flinch.

Then: a squeal of tires.

"Yes!" said Mouse.

Glanced at the rearview.

The car in back swerved toward our right and plunged into the treeline.

Mouse turned to face the other car.

Another flash of gunfire and metal sparked across our hood.

I gritted teeth.

At least the armor was holding.

Mouse waited two seconds, then fired a rolling burst at the other gunman. Her rounds punched through the windshield and the top of the man's head vanished in a misty burst of crimson.

Then she slid back inside, cursing. "I'm out," she said.

Then a thought struck.

"Mouse," I said.

"Yeah?" said Mouse.

"Get ready to cover me."

I drew Clyde from my shoulder rig, passed him to Mouse, then floored the accelerator.

The Shelby lurched forward with a burst of speed.

Closed on the car in front.

One hundred meters.

Fifty meters.

"Kat," said Mouse and I heard the slight touch of panic in her voice.

"Wait for it," I said, gripping the wheel, keeping the Shelby steady.

Thirty meters.

Took one hand off the wheel, unlatched my seat belt, and drew Bonnie from beneath my jacket.

Twenty meters.

I braked, turning the Shelby sideways, skidding to a shuddering stop with a screech of tires.

Threw the door open, strode toward the oncoming car, Bonnie coming up to aim.

Ten meters.

Could almost see the driver's face. He was grinning.

Not for long.

Five meters.

Stroked Bonnie's trigger three times.

She bucked and roared.

The incoming car's front windshield cracked and starred, the driver's grin vanishing as his forehead blew apart.

And the car swerved toward the guardrail to my left, crashed through the barrier, and went arcing over the side of the hill.

I lowered Bonnie and looked over my shoulder.

Mouse stood behind and to my right, a meter away, Clyde at low-ready.

"Nice play," she said with a grin.

* * *

Mal's Place on Oxford Street between 45th and 46th catered to the college crowd and resembled a saloon right out of Mouse's old vids, complete with bat-wing doors. Mouse and I walked inside and immediately came to a stop, spun on our heels, and walked back out, catching Rachel and Joshua by the arms just before they went inside.

They gave a yelp as we dragged them next door to the front of an E-Z-Shoppe.

"What're you--" Rachel began then flinched and went silent at my Look.

The one that made people nervous.

"Why didn't you tell us you were meeting Tony Two-Tone?" I said.

She gave me a puzzled look. "Who?"

"You said you two were meeting someone, right?" I said.

"Yeah," she said.

"Who?"

She shrugged. "Some guy who handled fake IDs. Never gave a name. Just to meet here"--she gestured at Mal's Place--"between 14:30 and 15:30."

"Lemme guess," said Mouse. "They'd pick you out of the crowd?"

"I guess so," said Rachel.

"So who's this Tony whatsisname?" said Joshua.

"Tony Two-Tone," I said, "deals in fake IDs."

"He said five hundred thousand for both of us," said Rachel.

Mouse made a face.

"What?" said Rachel.

"Five hundred grand for cards and full background?" said Mouse.

Worry creased Rachel's face. She looked at Joshua, then back at us. "Full background?"

"He's just charging for cards," said Mouse. "Probably crap ones, too."

"What do you mean?" said Joshua.

"Fake name and address," I said. "Works fine if someone just looks at it. Maybe pass a basic scan. But if they do any other kind of check? You're screwed. Not gonna work if you're planning to move out of town and start fresh."

Rachel threw up her hands. "Well, shit."

"You paid half up front?" I said.

Rachel nodded.

"Wait back in the car," I said. "Mouse and I will talk to him."

(to be continued...)

"Ties That Bind"
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Part 6

"Ties That Bind" - Part Four

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 14 Jan 2013 09:00:00 +0000

While I made the call to Jeffries, Mouse, Rachel, and Joshua packed their bags in the trunk of the Shelby.

Then we hogtied Isaac with zipties and a length of rope, gagged him with an old bandana, then deposited him in the trunk of the sedan. Joshua parked it back on the street then joined us in the Shelby.

"He's gonna be ticked off when he wakes up," Joshua said.

"Y'think?" said Mouse, grinning from ear to ear.

Claire stood outside the car and leaned down toward the side window. "What about me?"

"Don't be here," I said. "At least not for a few days."

She nodded. "Gotcha. My folks live in Oakwood."

"If you run into any trouble because of this," I said, "go to the Red Dog bar on Garner. Ask for Revell. He'll get in touch with us."

Worry crossed Claire's face. "You think there'll be trouble?"

"Just in case," I said.

Claire frowned but nodded. "Okay." Then she turned and ran back into the townhouse.

I looked at Rachel. "You ready to do this?"

She nodded.

I put the Shelby into gear, made a U-turn out of the cul-de-sac, and drove off.

* * *

The Jeffries family lived in a two-story mansion on two acres of walled and gated property in the San Marino Hills just east of the city proper.

A dark-suited muscle greeted the three of us--me, Mouse, and Rachel--at the door and ushered us to a dimly-lit office done in mahogany and dark red velvet.

Jeffries stood in front of a large ornate desk. Shapes stood in the shadows at the corners of the room behind and to either side of the desk.

Muscle.

As we walked inside, Jeffries looked directly at Rachel, smiled, and spread his arms wide.

"You're home," he said. "Your mom and I were worried sick."

Rachel stopped halfway inside the room, folded her arms across her chest, and turned away from him.

Jeffries's smile faltered. He lowered his arms, cleared his throat, and turned to me and Mouse. "You came through," he said.

"You had doubts?" I said.

A tiny smile flashed across his face. "No." He turned to the muscle who had led us to the office. "James, would you show Rachel to her room."

"Yes, Mr. Jeffries," said James.

I watched as James stepped up next to Rachel and inclined his head at her.

Rachel glared at him, then at her father, then spun on her heels and stormed out the door. James followed.

Turned back to Jeffries. He gave a sigh and shrugged. "Kids," he said. "What're you gonna do, right?"

"The rest of our fee," I said.

"Of course." Jeffries held up a hand, palm up, and made a gesture with his fingers.

One of the shadows in the corner to our right moved toward Jeffries and placed a cred'chip in his upraised palm and melted back into the darkness. Jeffries stepped forward and extended his hand toward me.

"Double," he said. "As agreed."

I reached out, picked up the 'chip, and passed it to Mouse. She pulled a 'reader from inside her black leather trenchcoat and swiped the 'chip

"Good?" I said.

"Good," said Mouse.

Jeffries smiled. "You had doubts?"

"I did," I said, then turned and walked out of the office.

* * *

Rachel was standing just outside the front doors as we came out.

"We still have a deal, right?" she said.

"We do," I said, not stopping.

"Good," she said and fell in step with us.

A moment later, we piled into the Shelby--Rachel and Joshua in the back seat, Mouse up front with me.

Mouse said," How'd you manage to get out?"

"Kitchen stop," said Rachel. "And when James wasn't looking, I clocked him over the head with a cast-iron frying pan."

Mouse grinned. "Good girl."

"Remind me not to piss you off," said Joshua.

"Good boy," I said.

* * *

We were just driving out of the main gates when Mouse said, "Here we go."

I glanced at the rearview. Spotted a pair of cars heading toward us.

Heard the gate guard call out, "Hey! You in the car!"

And I stomped on the gas.

The Shelby lurched forward, fishtailed onto the main street, and we roared up the road, tires squealing, turning east onto El Cerrito Avenue, the main road that snaked through the middle of the estates on the Hills.

Five seconds later, the two cars swerved onto the same road and raced after us.

"How are you two back there?" I said.

"Squished," said Joshua.

"We're fine," said Rachel.

"Stay down," I said and glanced over at Mouse.

She was racking the charging handle of an H&K MP5 submachinegun.

"Ready?" I said.

She nodded. "I am. Hope they are."

"Just in case they get too close," I said. "First thing--we need to lose them. Rachel."

"Yeah," said Rachel.

"Quickest way out," I said.

"Hang a left up ahead," she said.

I turned the wheel, the Shelby fishtailing across the intersection. Then the wheels caught and we rocketed forward.

"Go till you can't," said Rachel, "then turn right. That's San Marino Road. It'll take us around everything and toward the freeway."

"The 610?" I said.

"Yeah," said Rachel.

Glanced at the rearview.

No pursuit.

Yet.

But I knew they weren't far behind.

I turned my attention back to the road.

The Shelby raced along the slightly winding road for half a mile, the trees on either side zipping past in a blur of green and brown.

Then the road ended in a T-intersection and a guardrail.

Beyond, the ground sloped away, giving us a view of the Bay City skyline.

A view of Southside, to be exact.

A hand shot out from between the seats, pointing out toward the windshield.

"That's San Marino," said Rachel.

Took the turn tight, the rear wheels shuddering across the pavement.

Then we were roaring north along San Marino Road. Trees flashed past on our right. On our left, the rooftops of Southside seemed to slither past.

"Tail," said Mouse.

Checked the rearview.

Car. Dark sedan. Slewing onto San Marino.

Just one.

Shit.

There'd been two.

Where the hell was the other one?

"How far do we have?" I said.

"Mile and a half," said Rachel.

"Gaining," said Mouse.

Rearview again.

Closer than before.

"Go," I said to Mouse.

"Gone," she said and rolled down her window.

Air roared into the car.

I stomped the accelerator and the Shelby leaped forward.

(to be continued...)

"Ties That Bind"
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Part 5

"Ties That Bind" - Part Three

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 07 Jan 2013 09:00:00 +0000

Claire gave an excited squeal and applauded. "That is so wiz!"

Joshua turned to Rachel. "Wait a minute. Hire them for what?"

"To help us get out of town," said Rachel.

"We can do that ourselves," he said.

"Not if my father decides to come after us," Rachel said. "And not if..." She gritted her teeth, as if biting off her next remark.

"Not if what?" said Joshua.

Rachel made an annoyed gesture at Isaac. "Him."

Joshua looked at Isaac, frowned, and ran a hand through his hair.

"So what's the deal with Sleeping Beauty?" said Mouse.

"Why don't we ask him?" I said and started to turn toward Isaac.

Joshua rose.

Rachel reached out for him.

Bonnie leaped into my hand from my shoulder rig and aimed herself at Joshua's face.

Joshua went wide-eyed, put both hands up, palms out, and fell back into the couch.

"Slow," I said, looking directly at him.

Joshua nodded, hands still up.

I shot a quick glance at Mouse.

She was re-sheathing a pair of throwing blades, still watching Joshua.

I turned back to Rachel. "I think you two better start talking," I said. "We're not taking your job until we know who he is"--I nodded at Isaac--"and what's going on."

Rachel let out a long breath.

"Rachel," said Joshua, a warning tone in his voice.

Rachel held up a hand. "Might as well tell them."

"But it--" Joshua began.

"No, Josh," Rachel said. "They need to know. Especially if they're going to help us."

A chill gathered in the small of my back and started to slither up my spine.

I didn't like where Rachel was trying to go but I didn't say anything.

Joshua's frown deepened. Then he nodded. "Okay, Rache."

I nodded at Rachel.

She let out another long breath, then said: "Joshua and I are leaving. We're getting out of Bay City. For good. My father will probably try and stop us. That's where you two come in. Get us as far as the airport and make sure we get on our flight."

"Which is when?" I said.

"21:30 tonight," said Rachel. "Bay City International."

I checked my optic clock.

13:42:45.

A little less than eight hours left.

I gestured toward Isaac. "And what's his story? We know your dad didn't send him."

Rachel looked at Joshua. "Tell them what you told me."

Joshua glanced at Isaac, then sighed. "He's with me."

"What do you mean 'with you'?" I said.

"He's..." Joshua frowned, made a face, then went on: "We're part of a cell. With four others."

The chill on my spine continued its upward slither.

"What kind of cell?" said Mouse.

"Alliance," said Joshua. "Church of God the Redeemer."

"Sonofabitch," said Mouse.

The Church of God the Redeemer was the Alliance's state church. Its members had been the ones who tried to bomb the Palladium hotel while Jake Steele and I were there to meet a client.

The chill slithering up my spine now spread across my upper back and I fought back a shudder.

"And what are you doing in Bay City?" I said.

"I'm here because I wanted out," said Joshua. "I'm not one of their damn sheep. I hate the Alliance and everything they stand for."

"And you're in an Alliance cell," said Mouse, "because why?"

"Because I was born in Atlanta," he said. "And because my parents are devout Church members. And officials. You do the math."

"Forced into it," I said.

Joshua nodded, his face darkening. "It was the only way I could get out of there. Join up and leave Atlanta. It's how I got here to Bay City. And how I met Rachel."

I looked at Rachel. "We're supposed to believe this?"

She frowned. "Why not?"

"He could be playing you," I said. "Using you. To get to your dad."

"They already got to him," said Joshua.

"How?" I said.

"Blackmail," said Rachel. "Joshua told me."

I shot Joshua a prompting look.

"The Vice Mayor has an illegitimate daughter," he said.

"Don't most politicians?" I said.

"The mother is eighteen and pregnant. And she's the youngest daughter of a ranking Alliance official."

"How ranking?" I said.

"Second Elder," said Joshua. "Think Vice President."

Mouse gave a low whistle.

"Isn't that considered against the law in the Alliance?" I said. "Having a child out of wedlock?"

Joshua snorted. "Happens more often than you think. And it's usually our esteemed bishops and overseers and councillors. But the Guard never touch them. No way. It's 'do as I say, not as I do.' Frickin' hypocrites."

I quirked an eyebrow at Rachel.

"It's true," she said. "I've heard the recordings. Phone calls between my father and somebody in the Alliance."

"Got a copy of the recordings in that backpack," Joshua said, inclining his head at the packs in the foyer. "For insurance."

"Got him dead to rights," said Mouse.

I thought for a moment, working it out in my head. Then said: "So in exchange for not going public about the affair and pregnancy, the Vice Mayor is letting your cell set up in the city. That about right?"

Joshua nodded.

I said to Rachel: "And the blackmail? You telling me you're okay with this?'

Rachel eyes narrowed. "I don't know who he is anymore. So what do I care?" She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "So are you two going to help us or not? We're wasting time."

"What's the rush?" I said. "You've got under eight hours until your flight. And we still have to get you back to your dad."

Rachel pulled back the right sleeve of her sweatshirt and glanced at the tat clock on her inside wrist. "We have to meet someone in half an hour."

"Who?"

"New IDs," she said and glanced at Joshua. "For a new start."

Something else was bothering me about the story Rachel and Joshua gave but I couldn't figure out what it was. I dismissed it for the moment and turned to Mouse. "What do you think?"

"Already told you," she said. "Trouble."

"Biz," I said.

"True," said Mouse. "And there'll probably be shooting and screaming and blood, right?"

"Right."

She thought for a moment, then let out a sigh, grinned, and said, "If we must."

I looked at Rachel. "Ten grand and you've got a deal."

"Done," she said.

I shot her a lopsided smile. "Just like that?"

Rachel returned the smile. "Hurray, college fund."

"What about Isaac?" Joshua said, jerking a thumb at the passed out driver.

"I have an idea," I said, then pulled out the phone Jeffries had given me at the park. "But first, I call your dad."

(to be continued...)

"Ties That Bind"
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

"Ties That Bind" - Part Two

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 31 Dec 2012 09:00:00 +0000

"What do you think?" said Mouse. "Rachel?"

We were sitting inside the Shelby, watching the townhouse and the entrance to the cul-de-sac.

"Maybe," I said. "Or her roommate."

"We could go back and bust down the door," said Mouse, grinning.

"No finesse," I said. "Murphy would be horrified."

"It's an option," she said.

A moment later, a dark blue ToyoHonda compact went past us, turned into the cul-de-sac, and pulled to the curb in front of the townhouse. A blond twentysomething male dressed in a gray t-shirt and khaki pants got out of the car, went to the trunk, popped it open, and pulled out four filled plastic bags and set them on the ground.

Then the townhouse door opened and a slender brunette in her early twenties wearing a ballcap and a BCU sweatshirt came out, went to Gray Shirt, took two of the bags, and the two of them went back inside the townhouse.

I dug the photoprint out of my jacket and looked at it again.

The brunette was Rachel Jeffries.

"Bingo," I said, pulled out the phone Jeffries had given me, and dialed.

Jeffries answered on the second ring. "You found her."

"We did," I said. "Where are we taking her?"

As he rattled off an address, I felt Mouse tap me on the arm and gesture toward the street.

A gray mid-sized ChrysFord sedan pulled to the curb diagonally from us. The driver was a twentysomething male with short, curly hair and a long face. He craned his head toward the cul-de-sac.

What the hell--?

"Did you get that?" said Jeffries.

"Hold on, Jeffries," I said. "Did you double-hire this job and not tell us? Because that's a breach of contract."

"What are you talking about?" he said.

"We're the only ones you called for this, right?" I said.

"Right," he said. "Why?"

"There's another interested party," I said, "and they're sitting outside your daughter's townhouse."

"Do something," Jeffries said.

"I will," I said. "But I'm doubling our fee."

"Fine," he said. "Whatever it takes. Just get her back."

"You got it," I said and hung up.

The sedan's driver got out of the car and jogged toward Rachel's townhouse.

"Go," I said to Mouse.

We were out of the Shelby the moment the sedan driver reached the townhouse door and knocked, halfway to the townhouse when the door opened.

And Gray Shirt stepped out and slugged the driver.

The driver staggered back and crumpled.

I bolted forward, vaulted the driver's limp form, reached the door just as it closed.

A swift crack of my boot and the door flew open, bits of wood splintering near the jamb and lockset.

At the same time, the Twins, Bonnie and Clyde--my pair of Colt-Springfield M2001 .45-caliber high-capacity pistols--leaped into my hands, tracking.

The three figures in the foyer leaped back, narrowly avoiding getting smacked by the door, and gaped at us, saucer-eyed. Rachel, in the BCU sweatshirt and ballcap pulled low over her face. Next to her was Gray Shirt. Then a petite redhead in jeans and untucked long-sleeved checkered shirt.

A pair of tightly packed backpacks and a black and red duffle bag sat at their feet.

"Hi, folks," I said, the Twins trained at them. "Let's chat."

* * *

Rachel Jeffries sat straight-backed on the edge of the cream-colored sofa, hands folded in her lap, and glaring at me through slitted eyes. Next to her slouched Gray Shirt, Joshua, arms folded across his chest, looking sullen. Rachel's redheaded roommate, Claire, sat at the far end of the couch, legs crossed, arm propped on her knee, and chewing on her thumbnail.

The driver, Isaac, was sprawled out in a nearby armchair, still out cold.

Mouse stood off to one side.

I stood in front of the trio, arms folded across my chest, the Twins back in my shoulder rig.

Rachel said: "I'm not going back. You can't make me."

"I'm gonna suggest making this all go easy," I said, "and just come along with us."

"Be difficult," said Mouse. "More fun that way."

I shot her a look.

"Killjoy," said Mouse.

"No," said Rachel. "I'm not going. Arrest me for whatever you want. But I'm not going back home."

"We're not arresting you," I said.

"Aren't you cops?" said Joshua.

Mouse snorted a laugh. "We're better than those idiots."

"Then what the hell are you?" said Rachel.

"You're edgerunners, aren't you," said Claire, a twinkle in her eyes.

"Close enough," I said.

Claire snapped her fingers. "I knew it!" She turned to Rachel and Joshua. "Justine Hollister did this segment on Eye 12 about them a couple of months ago and--"

Rachel shot Claire a look.

Claire stopped talking in mid-sentence. Her mouth hung open for a moment, then closed, and she went back to biting her thumbnail.

Rachel turned to me. "Edgerunners. So, what--like bounty hunters?"

"Among other things," I said. "Your father hired us to find you. Take you back."

"And then what?"

"That's it."

"That's it?" said Rachel.

I nodded.

Rachel fixed me with narrowed eyes for a long moment. Then her eyes went wide and a smile crept across her face.

"No way," said Mouse, stepping up next to me. "I don't like that look. That look spells trouble."

"I want to hire you two," said Rachel. "Starting right after you take me home. And I can pay."

Mouse slapped me across the shoulder with the back of her hand. "See? I told you. Trouble."

(to be continued...)

"Ties That Bind"
Part 1 | Part 3

"Ties That Bind" - Part One

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 24 Dec 2012 09:00:00 +0000

I looked at Mouse, saw her with the same confused look I must've had on my face, and looked back at Specs. "The Vice Mayor?" I said.

"One and only," said Specs, turning his round-framed mirrorshades at me. "Today. At 1230 hours."

We were in the main bar area of the Red Dog, just a little past 11:30.

Revell, the burly and bearded owner, was restocking the liquor bottles that lined the mirrored back counter. Mouse, my partner and fellow ronin, was perched on a bar stool, working over a plate piled with breakfast pastries. Specs, everyone's favorite infobroker, sat two stools over. He was dressed in yet another Hawaiian shirt the color of a paint factory explosion, this one favoring neon greens, the overhead lamps glinting off his bald head.

"What's a city official want with us?" I said.

Specs shrugged. "Beats the crap outta me. How in hell does he even know you?"

I started to shake my head.

And a memory hit.

"The Palladium Hotel," I said.

Mouse looked at me. "Your date with Jake?"

"It wasn't a date," I said.

"Should've been," Mouse said. "You could've gotten laid."

Specs snapped his fingers. "When those assholes tried shooting up the restaurant."

"Yeah," I said. "That's the one."

Revell snorted. "Religious zealots. Always trouble."

"So what's that gotta do with the Vice Mayor?" said Specs.

"He was there," I said, then recapped the evening's events.

"Bet he's got a job for you," said Specs.

"Why?" I said. "He's probably got his own secteam."

"He's willing to pay."

Mouse swallowed a bite of a jelly donut and said, "Getting paid is good."

"True," I said.

"Keeps us from eating kibble."

"Don't start."

* * *

Jeffries was waiting for us in a somewhat secluded area on the northwest corner of the Civic Park Arboretum and Botanical Gardens at exactly 1230 hours. He was sitting on one of four benches that circled a pond, tossing handfuls of crumbled crackers at several ducks that milled around in front of the bench. A muscle stood off to one side of the bench, another just a few meters away.

The muscle by the bench spotted us and made a small gesture to approach.

Jeffries looked the same as last time. Medium height. Fortyish. Slicked-back blond hair. Dark suit.

Mouse and I stopped a meter away from him.

He nodded at me then arched both eyebrows at Mouse.

"My partner," I said.

"I thought the gentleman was your partner."

"That was a temporary arrangement," I said. "You wanted to talk to us."

Jeffries nodded. "I have a job for you."

I gestured to the muscle standing by the bench. "You have your own men."

"I need to outsource," he said.

"Ah," I said.

"I'm prepared to pay."

"We're listening."

"One hundred thousand upon completion."

Mouse gave a low whistle.

"Goodly price," I said.

"Goodly job," said Jeffries.

"Which is?"

"My daughter Rachel," said Jeffries. "I want you to find her and bring her home."

Mouse and I exchanged looks.

"Missing?" I said. "Why not go to BCPD?"

Jeffries took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "She's not missing. She..." He frowned, then said: "She ran away a little over twenty-four hours ago. I want you to find her. BCPD really doesn't need to get involved."

He gestured to the nearest muscle who stepped up and held out a thick manila envelope the size of my hand.

"Inside is a photoprint of Rachel," said Jeffries. "Recent. About a month old. Also, half the fee on a creditchip. Fifty thousand. The rest when you complete the job."

"Done," I said and took the package. "How do we contact you when we find her?"

"Cellphone inside," Jeffries said, indicating the package. "Preset number. Call that."

"Will do," I said and slipped the package into my jacket pocket.

"You might want to start at her apartment," said Jeffries. "Her roommate might know something."

* * *

The address Jeffries gave us was a townhouse complex three blocks northeast of the BCU campus.

When I parked the Shelby just up the street from the complex entrance, Mouse said, "Been here before."

I looked around then nodded. "Yeah," I said and pointed down the street. "Raya and her friends lived that way."

A month ago, we'd helped Revell find his missing niece. She'd shared a townhouse with another BCU student in a complex similar to this one.

Mouse said: "Same neighborhood. Another missing girl. Do I detect a trend?"

"I just hope they don't make a habit of it," I said and pulled out the package Jeffries had given us.

The photoprint was standard small, eight-by-thirteen centimeters, glossy, and showed a young girl in her early twenties, tall and slender, with a heart-shaped face and shoulder-length straight brown hair with side-swept bangs. Rachel was wearing a black cocktail dress, had a champagne glass in one hand, and was mugging for the camera.

"Party girl?" said Mouse, peering at the print.

I pointed to a few adults in the photo's background. "Not with them. They don't look like the party type. My guess is some public event for her father. Got dragged along."

Mouse checked the cred'chip with the 'reader. "We're good," she said a moment later. "Fifty grand, as promised."

I slid the print back in the package, put it back in my pocket, and popped the door of the Shelby. "Let's check out the place."

The complex was made up of a dozen two-story brown and beige trimmed townhouses that ringed a small cul-de-sac. A tall skinny tree held up by wooden supports stood at the curb in front of each townhouse. Rachel's was the third one on the right.

I rang the doorbell.

Then waited.

No answer.

Mouse arched an eyebrow.

Rang the bell again.

Waited.

Still no answer.

"Out?" said Mouse.

I frowned.

This time I rapped on the door with my knuckles then put my ear to it.

A faint sound. Somewhere behind the door. Inside the townhouse. Like a quick shuffle across carpet.

Felt a tap on my shoulder.

Looked up.

Mouse nodded toward the front windows.

The blinds moved slightly from side to side, as if someone had just peered between the slats then moved quickly away, not wanting to be seen.

"Come on," I said, voice pitched low, and we headed back toward the Shelby.

(to be continued...)

"Ties That Bind"
Part 2

"Entr'acte"

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 17 Dec 2012 09:00:00 +0000

30 September 2042
Ascot Arms Hotel
Bay City, California Free State

Homicide Detective Sgt. Ellen Calhoun, fresh from the shower and wearing jeans, casual boots, dark turtleneck, and black leather blazer, looking every bit a tourist, stepped out of her room, pulled the door shut behind her, adjusted her backpack, and stepped into the hallway, then checked her optic clock.

It read: 10:12:33.

She blinked a few times and her vision went back to normal.

Still not used to it. Chen had said it would take some time. The optics. The implants.

Everything.

Time.

But she didn't have time.

She'd force herself to adapt. That would be the key.

And step one of adaptation was less than fifteen minutes away.

She glanced back at the door of her room, then at the door across from her, and grinned.

Let's see how you like this.

* * *

"I'm here," Sakura said into the earbud, starting up the staircase at a sprint, her footfalls echoing off the stone walls.

"Wouldn't the elevator be faster?" said Simon.

"Can't be seen," she said. "Or did you forget?"

"They're at the front entrance. What floor are you at?"

Sakura glanced at the nearest door as she sprinted past. "Sixth floor."

"Eleven more to go, boss. Better hurry."

"Sakura out."

She gritted her teeth and took the steps five at a time, six, then a whole flight, two flights, more, bounding up the staircase like a gazelle.

Why hadn't she seen this coming?

* * *

When the elevator doors closed, Mouse turned to me and made a face. "Why always this place?" she said. "Why can't they pick another damn hotel. There's gotta be at least a dozen of them in Uptown."

"I know," I said. "But we go where they ask us to go."

"Good thing there's a fee waiting for us."

"Good thing."

We were back at the Ascot Arms Hotel, dressed like a pair of businesswomen, and I had to agree with Mouse. I personally didn't like coming here. Our first time here ended with a corner penthouse exploding. The second instance involved a shoot-out in the downstairs restaurant and a dead client. And the last time resulted in the two of us being kidnapped by some nutball assassin who then put us through a deranged obstacle course.

"Next time," I said, "I'll choose the hotel."

"Damn straight you will."

The elevator toned, signalling our floor.

Seventeen.

The doors wooshed open and we emerged from the elevator, padded down the carpeted hallway to room 1712, and stopped outside.

"Let's get this over with," said Mouse, fidgeting in her outfit and readjusting her grip on the leather attaché case she carried. "I hate these clothes."

"At least we're not in the woods," I said.

"That was enough nature to last me the rest of my life, thank you very much."

I stepped forward to knock on the door, spotted a small red light along the doorframe at knee height.

What the hell--?

My brain started to register the light as part of a motion sensor unit when I felt a sting at my neck.

Then a shadow closed on me.

Impact jarred through my body.

Followed by a distant roar.

Then blackness.

* * *

Thunder roared across the Bay City morning.

A section of the Ascot Arms' seventeeth floor exploded in a geyser of fire, concrete, and glass, raining debris onto the street below.

* * *

Calhoun smiled and counted along with the display above the elevator doors.

Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.

Seventeen.

The car pinged to a stop and the doors whispered open.

She stepped out into a smoke-filled corridor, the fire alarm whooping somewhere nearby, warning lights strobing.

The elevator doors whispered closed behind her and she heard the car descend.

Just in time.

She stood for a moment in front of the doors. Groups of people in various states of dress jogged past her toward the stairwell at the far end of the corridor, their voices panicked and concerned.

They paid no attention to her.

Her smile widened a little.

Better that way.

She waited until the voices and the footfalls in the stairwell died away.

Then she drew the compact SIG P250 from her holster, turned the corner, and went down the main hallway.

And stopped short, her smile fading.

Halfway down the corridor, the shattered and burned sections of two doors lay strewn across the floor. Smoke from her room and the room across billowed out into the hallway, the flickering light from the flames inside dancing across the walls.

But they weren't there.

Their bodies should've been on the floor. With the doors.

Not dead, of course. She'd take care of that later.

It would be slow. Painful.

They would be--should have been--there. Stunned, surely. Out cold, possibly. Minor burns, likely.

But they weren't there.

There was no one there!

Her grip on the pistol tightened and the world went crimson.

Where had they gone?

Then she heard the distant wail of sirens.

Fire department.

And right behind them, the police.

Calhoun stared at the shattered and burned doors and ground her teeth, swearing to herself, nostrils flaring as she sucked in deep breaths.

She holstered her pistol, took one last look at the spot where the bodies should've been, and turned.

And rammed her right fist into the wall, spraying chunks of plaster, burying her arm up to the elbow.

The sirens were closer now.

She had to go.

Calhoun pulled her arm out of the wall and looked at her gloved right hand. The fabric across the knuckles had torn and metal glinted up at her.

She had to find them.

And she knew where to start.

The Red Dog Bar.

* * *

I came to staring up at the bare ceiling of a vehicle.

Blinked a few times, willing my sight and brain into focus, then propped myself up on my elbows and looked around.

We were in the back of a cargo van. The bare metal floor had been replaced with rubber padding. Behind us, a metal partition separated the cargo area from the front seats.

Mouse lay on her side half a meter to my left, near the van's sliding side door.

Then I remembered the sting and touched the side of my neck.

It had come from our right.

Same direction as the impact.

Knockout drug? Again?

I looked at the van.

"Sakura?" I said. "Is this another one of your tests?"

"No test."

The voice came from speakers somewhere in the cargo area.

Mouse stirred, let out a groan.

"So it is you," I said.

"Yes."

"What do you want?"

"I'm here to help," she said.

"By locking us in the back of a van?"

"The door's unlocked," said Sakura. "And before you say it, you're still armed."

I blinked at that, then realized I still had the Twins, Bonnie and Clyde, my pair of Colt-Springfield M2001 .45-caliber high-capacity pistols, in the double-holster rig beneath my suit jacket.

Scanned the van again and now spotted Mouse's attache case at her feet.

"They're still in there," said Sakura. "Feel free to look."

"Sonofabitch," said Mouse, rolling onto her back. "The fuck happened?"

I sat up, reached for the attaché case, pulled it open.

Inside were her twin wakizashis.

"Kat?"

I turned to Mouse. She was sitting up and looking at me.

"Our friend is back," I said.

"Mouse," said Sakura.

"Aw, shit," said Mouse. "Again?"

"She said she's here to help," I said.

Mouse cackled.

"I just saved you two from being blown into tiny pieces," Sakura said.

"Yeah, right," said Mouse.

I was about to join in with a retort when a memory surfaced.

A light. A red light.

"Motion sensor," I said.

"What?" said Mouse.

I turned to her as images flashed through my head. "Just before we stepped up to the door of that room, I remembered seeing a red light on the door frame. Size of a thumbnail. About knee level."

"Yes," said Sakura. "It was a motion sensor. Rigged to a goodly amount of explosives. Got to you both before it blew," said Sakura.

"And now we're in a van," I said. "Listening to you through hidden speakers." I shook my head. "Isn't this a little much? I mean, it's like something out of Mouse's thriller vids."

"That covert assassin guy with amnesia," said Mouse. "Wakes up on a boat."

"Yeah," I said. "Kind of theatrical."

"She did convert an entire R&D lab into a deathtrap," said Mouse. "This is nothing compared to that."

"Tell me," said Sakura. "Would you have believed me if I'd called and told you not to go into the room because it was rigged to explode?"

"Like you told us that lab would blow when time ran out?" I said.

"Exactly," said Sakura. "Plus, I had to make sure."

"Make sure of what?" I said.

"Later," said Sakura. "Somebody was gunning for you."

"Was?" I said.

"They're not anymore."

"And why not?" said Mouse.

"Do you want them to be?" said Sakura.

"Answer the question," I said. "Why aren't they gunning for us anymore?"

"Because I took care of it," said Sakura.

"Took care of it how?" I said.

Silence.

We waited.

Still silence.

Crap.

* * *

The van had been parked on the top floor of the Cameron Street Garage, two blocks east of the Ascot Arms.

The same garage where we'd parked one of Spec's loaners three floors down.

From where we stood, Mouse and I could see the thick black smoke pouring out of a room on the hotel's 17th floor facing Wisher Avenue.

Down below, traffic had been diverted to either side of Cameron Avenue and BCPD cruisers blocked off 14th and 15th Streets. Further up the street, I could see the strobing red flashes from the fire trucks assembled at the foot of the hotel.

"We could've been up there," said Mouse, gesturing toward the smoke.

"If it hadn't been for Sakura," I said. "And I don't like that."

"Me either," said Mouse. "Like we owe her or something." She shuddered.

Just then my phone chirped.

I pulled it out of my jacket pocket.

Specs.

"The hotel again?" said Specs.

"Don't start," I said.

"Okay okay," he said. "Don't get your undies in a knot. I take it this one's a wash?"

"Pretty much," I said.

"At least you got paid half in advance, right?"

"Is this a social call, Specs?" I said.

"It just so happens I got another run for you two," he said. "Meet up at the Red Dog. I'll tell you there."

"Can't you tell me now?"

"Not this one," he said.

* * *

Sakura crouched on the edge of the rooftop and watched.

Three stories below, Calhoun walked down the alley between the Red Dog and the beauty salon next door and stopped at the back door of the bar.

She'd done some homework. Sakura had to give her that.

But had she done enough?

She waited to see.

Calhoun glanced around, then pulled something out of her jacket pocket.

Sakura popped her optics to magnify.

A pick gun.

Sakura grinned and popped her optics back to normal.

No. Not enough homework.

Calhoun stepped closer to the door.

Then staggered back and crumpled to the ground, writhing and spasming, arms twisted, fingers curled into claws. The pick gun fell out of her hand.

Ten seconds later she stopped writhing and rolled to one side.

It was time.

Sakura leaped down from the roof edge and landed half a meter from where Calhoun lay.

Calhoun craned her neck to look up, eyes squinted.

"Who--who are you?" she croaked.

Sakura stepped up next to Calhoun and went down on one knee beside her. "You're in the way," she said.

Calhoun blinked at her. "What?"

Sakura struck cobra-fast with both hands and snapped Calhoun's neck.

The crack of bone echoed briefly in the enclosed space of the back alley.

Calhoun's body jerked, then went limp.

Sakura popped her optics to thermo and looked over Calhoun's body.

Lots of mods. Both legs. Right arm. Dermal mesh. Optics. Boosters. Neuralware.

She shook her head.

A waste of time.

Sakura reached out, yanked the taser prongs and leads from Calhoun's chest, picked her up in a fireman's carry, and stood.

Looked around for a moment.

Then sprang up to the roof of the beauty salon and vanished.

--END--

NEXT TIME: "Ties That Bind"

Update

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 03 Dec 2012 09:00:00 +0000

The Ladies return with new adventures on December 17.

Check back here that Monday.

(If you're already subscribed by RSS feed or email, you'll get the new episode in your feed reader or inbox.)

And a note/apology for our email (and possibly RSS) subscribers: An old episode installment ("Payback," part 4) appears to have re-sent itself to everyone a few days ago. I'm thinking something glitched behind the scenes while I was working on the blog. Apologies for that. I'll bet some of you were thinking "Hey! Awesome! New episode! I better---wait. I've read this one already. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?"

Sorry, Folks. It, sadly, wasn't the case.

But check December 17 for new stories!

Returning

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Wed, 22 Aug 2012 13:30:00 +0000

Fear not.

The Duo will be back.

Soon.

Check out this post at my regular blog for details.

Mid-Season Break

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 09:00:00 +0000

That's right. A cliffhanger.

We're not done with the Ladies yet. Not by any means.

But I do need a break and Real Life is intruding in a very messy fashion. So rather than shortchange their story (and shortchange you guys, my Dear Readers), I'm calling a hiatus.

The Archives are open for your reading enjoyment. And the Season One "Boxed Set" is available for Kindle, Nook, and other e-reader formats as well as dead-tree.

Check in at my blog here for updates on when the Ladies will return. They will.

It might be a bit. But they will return.

"Into The Woods" - Part Fourteen

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 09:00:00 +0000

"Now you know," I said to Mac as we rumbled down the road.

She nodded, her expression grim. "I was a damn fool."

"No," I said. "You just stopped paying attention."

Mac grunted. "Probably never happens to you, huh."

"You'd be surprised," I said.

"Yeah," said Mouse. "She only looks invincible."

A few minutes later we reached the highway.

The Bison and the other Humvee had pulled to the right-hand shoulder just past the turnoff. I slid in behind them, cut the engine, then turned in my seat to look at Kyle.

"Was that him?" I said.

"Yeah," he said. "It was him."

Mac turned to look at us. "Wait--who was who?"

"That secman back there," Kyle said. "Same guy who headed the Capital raid at Starkey's Brewhouse." He looked directly at Mac. "The day James died."

Mac recoiled, eyes wide, hand going to her mouth. She looked away.

"Her husband," I said to Kyle.

Kyle nodded, his eyes dark. "Now that we know he's still here, Tina and I are gonna make sure he pays."

* * *

Mac sent the other two Humvees back to French Gulch with Cutter, Tina, and Kyle and told them to send back one of the SUVs with Beck and whatever they could salvage from Cutter's aerodyne.

An hour later, Mouse and I, along with Cutter, Beck, and Mac were back at the airfield where Renaldi's jet was waiting on the tarmac.

Beck was first inside the plane.

Mac waited outside while Cutter helped bring our gear bags aboard. After we got them stowed, he shook hands with me and Mouse.

"What's next for you?" I said.

"Get me a new aerodyne," he said. "Probably another piece of shit. Fix 'er up good."

"Mac paying you back?"

"Damn right she is."

"She said so?"

"Not yet," said Cutter. "But she will."

"Why not spring for a new one?" Mouse said.

He grinned. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Point taken," I said.

"If you two are ever back here," Cutter said, "look me up. I'll be in the cafe. Take you 'round to see the sights."

"Sounds good," I said.

He sketched us a loose salute, turned, and exited the cabin.

Then Mac appeared at the top of the airstairs and leaned inside, holding onto the doorway.

"Thanks for yanking our asses out of the fire," she said. "Sorry I doubted you two."

"Apology accepted," I said. "Glad we could help out."

"Kyle mentioned something to me about payment?"

"We'll bill you," I said.

She snickered. "Okay."

"And Cutter's aerodyne?"

"I owe him for that," she said. "I know a guy. He'll hook me up."

"Better tell him that."

"I will."

"And if you ever need some work done," I said, "get hold of us."

"But back there you said--"

"Raiding a factory isn't the same as hunting down people and executing them."

Mac grinned and nodded. "You've got a point. I'll keep you two in mind."

She shook hands with us, turned, and headed back down the stairs.

Mouse settled into her seat.

I glanced back at Beck.

He was already reclined and snoring peacefully.

I settled into my seat.

A short time later, we were airborne and headed back to Bay City.

My optic clock read: 19:37:33

More than nine and a half hours since we first landed in Redding.

"Hell of a day," said Mouse.

"You can say that again."

"What was that thing with Tina and the phone?"

"Surveillance video of Dylan and that secman."

"From where?"

"The cafe," I said. "Turns out they had security cams."

"They did?"

"That's what I said. Tina said they were camouflaged to look like part of the roof and inside fixtures."

"I'll be damned."

"Remember that kid sitting out front?"

"With the mohawk."

I nodded. "Son of the cafe's owner. A tech-type. Like Tinker. He sent Tina the footage."

"And Mac saw the vid."

I nodded.

"Nice," said Mouse.

After a moment, Mouse said: "You really think they're gonna pay us the ten grand?"

I shrugged. "We'll see."

"Do we have a payment plan?"

"Don't you start."

"We should have one."

"Mouse--"

"It's still Biz."

"I know," I said.

"And I hate kibble," said Mouse.

Then the plane's phone buzzed.

I answered.

"All finished?" the voice on the other end said.

Renaldi.

"All finished," I said.

"And Beck?"

"Your nephew's on the plane and asleep."

"Good. Now--care to explain how a one hour job turned into an all-day operation?"

I grinned. "It started," I said, leaning back in my seat, "when we went into the woods..."

--END--

NEXT TIME: "Entr'acte"

AUTHOR'S NOTE
The town of French Gulch and the Gladstone Mine are actual places in present-day Northern California, both about 20+ miles northwest of the city of Redding.

I'd like to thank Dottie Smith for providing some historical information about the Gladstone Mine and its property.

Additional information on the mine came from:

Since there was limited information on actual layouts inside the mine itself (other than a brief cross-section in the 1915 Mineralogist's report linked to above), I exerted my authorial and creative licenses (we pay dues every year), guessed at the location of the entrance, and created a completely fictional internal layout.

The layout is based on the information from the above materials, the cross-section from the above-named report, and hand-drawn maps of the Big Horn, Dawn, and Black Cargo Mines of Los Angeles County taken from the Gold Mines of Los Angeles County website.

Any mistakes from doing this are all mine.

"Into The Woods" - Part Thirteen

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 09:00:00 +0000

While Cutter checked on Kyle, Mac sent the other Claw members back to French Gulch so that only her Humvee and ours remained.

A few minutes after the last convoy vehicle disappeared around the bend in the road, a dark blue ChrysFord Bison appeared and rolled to a stop near us.

Tina jumped out, saw Cutter kneeling next to Kyle, gasped, and ran toward them.

Mac looked at Dylan's body, then at Kyle, then at me. "What next?"

"One last thing," I said to Mac.

"Okay," she said.

I gestured toward the Humvee. "Have a seat. Passenger side."

"What for?"

"Explanations," I said. "Trust me."

Her brow furrowed and she looked at me for a moment, then nodded and got inside the vehicle.

Heard Mouse come up next to me.

I gave her instructions then went over to the front of the Humvee.

Cutter was closing the lid on the first aid kit while Tina helped Kyle to his feet.

"He gonna live?" I said to Cutter.

Cutter nodded, brushed off his knees, and stood up. "Flesh wound. Went straight through. Patched him up some and gave him a pain hypo."

"Clear head?"

"Should be. Wasn't a sedative."

"Good." I told him to help Mouse then turned to Tina. "You have it?"

Tina nodded, fished her cellphone from her hip pocket, keyed some buttons, looked at the display, then handed it to me.

I checked.

It was there.

"How?" I said.

Tina told me.

"Nice," I said.

"Told you it was solid," Tina said.

"You did," I said, then motioned Kyle toward the Humvee. "Get in. Gonna need you for this."

* * *

The late afternoon sun was beginning its drop toward the horizon as we headed up Iron Mountain Road at a crawl, crunching across gravel and dirt.

I drove. Mac sat in the passenger seat, focused intently on Tina's cellphone. Mouse and Kyle sat in the back.

Dylan's body was draped across the hood and lashed in place with rope.

A hundred meters up the road, we reached an intersection and I stopped the Humvee and cut the engine.

"You two stay here," I said to Kyle and Mac. "Do nothing but watch."

They nodded in agreement.

I got out of the vehicle.

Mouse followed.

I left my door open.

"Ropes," I said to Mouse. Then stepped two meters in front of the Humvee and looked around.

Trees and ground shrubbery lined the sides of the road in all directions. The main road went ahead while two other roads curved to the left and right.

The air was quiet and humid and thick with the smell of leaves and grass.

"I know you're there," I said. "Might as well come out."

Silence.

Then the foilage directly ahead of us parted and he emerged.

The secman from the Airpark Cafe. He held an M4-A assault rifle at his right shoulder, muzzle pointed skyward.

"You two," he said.

"Us," I said, signaled to Mouse, then stepped back toward the Humvee.

We grabbed the ropes holding Dylan's legs and arms, yanked him off the hood, and tossed him onto the ground in front of us. The body landed a meter away with a wet thud.

Mouse and I stepped back.

The secman looked down at the body. "That's inconvenient," he said.

"Guess he didn't work out so well," I said.

He looked back up at us. "The others are gone?"

"They are."

"Shit outta luck, pal," said Mouse.

"Shame," he said. "First good lead on them."

"Must've been a good price," I said.

"Money beats rhetoric every time," he said.

"So I've heard," I said. "How much did it beat it by?"

"Two million."

"Not bad."

"Could be yours."

"No thanks."

He cocked his head to one side. "Ronin saying no to two million? That's a new one."

"For wholesale slaughter?" I shook my head. "We don't do mass wetwork."

He grinned. Toothy. Feral. "Who said anything about wetwork? These are security actions."

"Nice try. But no thanks."

"Money beats rhetoric every time," he said.

"Not this time," I said and turned toward the Humvee.

"We could end you both here," he said. "Save us the money."

I stopped and turned back toward him.

He had leveled his rifle at us.

"People know we're here," I said. "They're not the kind of people you want to piss off."

"You could be lying."

"I could. You willing to chance it?"

We locked eyes for what seemed like a long time.

Then he raised his rifle back to his right shoulder.

"Good choice," I said, and Mouse and I got back in the Humvee.

I gave the secman one last look through the front windshield before starting the engine, turning us around, and heading back toward the highway.

(to be continued...)

"Into The Woods" - Part Twelve

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 09:00:00 +0000

Ten minutes later, we spotted the halted convoy ahead of us. Four Humvees, four dark SUVs, and three heavy-duty pickups, one of which had a manned .50-caliber machinegun mounted in the truckbed, sat on the shoulder of the road.

Mouse had kept up a neverending stream of invective on the walkie talkie directed at Dylan and it seemed to have worked at derailing them.

"They're about twenty meters from the turnoff," Kyle said.

"Block 'em," I said.

We roared past the line of cars, crossed the double-yellow, and slid to a squealing stop at an angle across the intersection of Highway 299 and Iron Mountain Road.

Mouse stopped talking on the walkie and Mac's voice screeched from the speaker: "--I find you, I will cut your fucking head off!"

She turned it off, gave a cruel little chuckle, and handed the unit back to Kyle.

Kyle had a broad grin on his face and Cutter was gasping and wiping his eyes.

I grinned at Mouse. "Nice play," I said.

Mouse flashed me a grin then gestured toward the front of the Humvee.

I turned.

The convoy vehicles were disgorging their passengers.

I counted at least thirty, all of them looking at our Humvee, confusion on their faces.

Looked at Kyle. "Stay here," I said. "Wait for my signal."

He gave me a puzzled look, but nodded.

"Let's go, Mouse," I said.

"Right behind you," said Mouse.

"Me, too," said Cutter.

I opened my door, stepped out, and stood next to the front of the Humvee.

Heard the two other doors open and close.

Out of the corner of both eyes, spotted Cutter to my left, Mouse to my right.

The passenger's side door of the lead Humvee flew open and Mac jumped out and marched toward me, a scowl on her face. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Dylan's sold you out," I said.

Mac skidded to a stop. "That was you on the radio."

"Was me," said Mouse. "And it's true."

"Bullshit," said Mac.

"He sold you out to Capital," I said. "You're walking into an ambush."

Mac drew the pistol from her leg holster and pointed it at me. "You lie," she said.

"Now," I said.

Our Humvee's door opened.

Mac swung her pistol toward the sound.

Then gasped and stepped back.

Kyle walked forward and stopped in front of our Humvee, his AK-47 held muzzle-down at his side. "No lie, Mac," he said.

Surprised cries rippled across the other Claw members.

Mac lowered her pistol, her brow creased. "What're you doing here? You're supposed to be--"

"Gone ahead?" said Kyle. "To recon the site?"

"Disobeying an order," said Dylan.

Looked.

Saw Dylan standing next to the lead Humvee's driver side door, pistol trained on Kyle.

Kyle raised his AK at him.

Dylan fired.

Kyle fell back against the Humvee's front grill, clutching his left shoulder, the AK dropping to the ground beside him.

Heard Mouse shuffle right.

Mac whirled on Dylan, pistol swinging up toward him, her eyes wide. "Stand down and drop the weapon!"

Dylan kept the pistol pointed at Kyle. "I told you Kyle was bad news, Mac. But you didn't listen."

"Drop the goddamn weapon, Dylan!" said Mac.

"Too late for that," said Dylan and swung the pistol toward Mac.

Subvocal.

And the world slid into slo-mo.

The Twins leaped into my hands from their shoulder rig and roared twice, spitting fire and thunder. Both rounds slammed into Dylan, high, near the shoulder, bounced him off the driver's side door, and pitched him face-first onto the asphalt. His pistol clattered away.

Then Dylan pushed himself up from the ground, looked toward me, lips twisted in a snarl.

And twenty centimeters of sharpened steel popped out of the back of his right hand.

Implant blade.

Damn. Should've checked.

Dylan got one leg under him, rose to a half-crouch.

Metal whistled past me.

And three throwing knives erupted from Dylan's left upper arm.

He howled, clutching at his arm, and staggered back against the Humvee's door.

The Twins barked again, twice each.

Dylan's chest cratered and he folded.

And stopped moving.

(to be continued...)

"Into The Woods" - Part Eleven

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 09:00:00 +0000

My breathing was a little ragged, my heart was jackhammering in my chest, and my shirt was soaked with sweat and plastered to my back when we finally rounded the bend and the dirt road gave way to pavement.

Never liked prolonged runs. More of a sprinter.

We came to a stop just before the tree cover ended and ducked behind a thick patch of foilage on the side of the road.

Kyle, Tina, and Cutter were bent over, hands on their knees, sucking in air.

I was just breathing hard.

Mouse was crouched next to me, face glistening with sweat, but she was breathing evenly, not even winded.

Showoff.

I popped my optic clock: 17:07:31.

"We have a little over fifty minutes," I said. "We need to get to them before all hell breaks loose." I looked at Kyle. "Any chance there's a car or something left here we can use? Something they didn't take with them?"

He frowned. "Maybe."

"We'd better look," said Mouse. "And fast."

I nodded. "Split up and check around. Fire two shots if you find something."

* * *

I found the sand-colored Humvee with the roof-mounted machine gun five minutes later.

It was parked next to a shabby, one-story, reddish-brown building boasting half an awning, two windows minus glass, and a sign in front of the roof with faded white block letters that read: FRENCH GULCH GENERAL STORE U.S. POST OFFICE. The Humvee's driver side door was open and a Claw member stood half-in, half-out, one hand on top of the door frame, looking toward the back of the building. Another sat in the passenger side, also looking backward.

Then two more Claw members jogged out from behind the building at a trot, rifles slung over their shoulders.

The driver slapped the Humvee's roof twice. "Move it!" he said. "We're late!"

I stood in the middle of the street, drew Bonnie, aimed at the store/post office, and fired two shots.

The driver whirled so fast he tumbled out of the door and fell ass-first on the pavement. The two Claw members outside the vehicle skidded to a stop, nearly crashing into each other, fumbled for their rifles, finally swung them at me.

Lowered Bonnie and held up my left hand, palm out. "Easy, boys," I said. "I just want to use your car."

The driver scrambled to his feet, a pistol in a two-handed grip leveled at me. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Somebody trying to save your ass," I said. "Your people are walking into a trap."

"What are you talking about?" he said.

The passenger had gotten out and now joined the two other Claw members on the left side of the Humvee, their rifles trained on me.

"Forget talking," one of them said. "Let's just shoot her ass."

"Stand down!" a voice said from somewhere behind me.

Then the sound of running feet.

Kyle.

The Humvee group turned their heads to look past me and confusion played across their faces.

The driver lowered his pistol, frowning. "Kyle? What the fuck is going on? I thought you were already at the plant?"

"Dylan sold us out," Kyle said, coming to a stop near me.

He gave them the short version of the story.

Mouse, Cutter, and Tina, arrived a few moments later.

"That little shit," the driver said after Kyle finished.

"Then you're gonna help," I said.

He nodded. So did the others.

"How long ago did they leave?"

"Five, six minutes ago," said the driver.

"We're taking the Humvee," I said.

I motioned to Mouse and Cutter and they headed for the vehicle.

"I'm driving," Kyle said and followed them.

"What about us?" the driver said.

"Stay here," I said. "We've got this."

"Your Bison here?" Tina said to the driver.

"Yeah, but--"

"I'm borrowing it." She turned to me. "You said he was at the Airpark Cafe, right? Dylan and that other guy."

"Yeah," I said. "Why?"

"You need proof," Tina said.

"Was planning on forcing Dylan's hand."

She smiled. "I can get backup. Just in case."

"You can."

She nodded. "Solid backup."

"Do it," I said, turned, and ran toward the waiting Humvee.

* * *

The Humvee left the road leading toward French Gulch, scream-slid across the highway intersection nearly taking out the faded green Highway 299/Redding/Weaverville sign, and roared east toward Redding.

"Shit!" Cutter said from his seat in the back.

"Alive," I said to Kyle from my spot in the passenger seat, gripping the dashboard in front of me, cool air blowing in from the two air vents. "We want to get there alive."

"What's your plan?" said Kyle, expertly negotiating the curves ahead.

Shrubs, trees, and the guardrails zipped past us in a green-gray blur and the Humvee's engine whined with speed.

"Catch up with them as soon as possible," I said. "Best if we can keep them from getting to the plant."

"There's a turn from the highway," Kyle said. "Iron Mountain Road. Takes them up toward the plant."

"Can you get there before they do?"

"They've got a five minute head start. Short answer, no."

"Got an idea," Mouse said. "Gimme your walkie talkie."

Kyle unclipped it from his gear belt and passed it back to her.

"What channel is everybody on?"

Kyle told her.

"Leave it to me," said Mouse.

"Punch it," I said to Kyle.

A moment later, I heard Mouse say: "Dylan's fucking you all in the butt."

I choked back a snorted laugh.

And Kyle almost drove off the road.

(to be continued...)

"Into The Woods" - Part Ten

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 09:00:00 +0000

The message was short and sweet: "Trapped. Dylan dirty. Raid compromised."

Kyle sat on his haunches to one side of the door and used the end of a tactical folder to tap out the message.

He was good at this, the five words going out in nearly rapid-fire dull staccato clanks against the door.

It took me three passes to decode it in my head. I needed practice.

Mouse came up next to me. "This gonna work?"

"It's what we've got at the moment," I said. "Other than trying to dig our way out."

"I found food packs, water bottles, and toilet paper in that stack Kyle knocked over," said Mouse. "Won't help with digging."

* * *

My optic clock read: 16:12:44

Over an hour since Kyle started.

I looked over at him.

He was now sitting cross-legged in front of the door, still tapping away.

"Kyle," I said.

He stopped tapping, turned to look at me over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"When's the raid supposed to take place."

He drew back the sleeve of his uniform shirt and glanced at the dim blue glow on the inside of his wrist. "About an hour forty-five. At 18:00."

"Where?"

"Capital plant. Just outside of Redding."

"Leaving from here?"

He shook his head. "From French Gulch. They've got vehicles stashed around town. SUVs. Trucks. Four Hummers. They're on their way down there by now. Take 'em at least an hour to haul gear and weapons on foot and by ATV."

"That much equipment," I said. "They planning on taking down the factory?"

Kyle nodded. "Yeah."

"And Capital's waiting for them."

He grimaced at the thought. "I know."

Then: two muffled cracks.

Then a third.

Gunshots. Just outside.

Kyle leaped to his feet and sprang back from the door.

I dropped into a fighting stance, felt my body tense.

Watched.

Waited.

The lock clanged.

The door squeaked open.

And Tina stepped through, a pistol in hand. She saw us and grinned. "Good thinking, big bro," she said to Kyle.

"Gunshots," I said.

Tina nodded. "Me. Had to put Rico down."

"The big guy?" said Mouse.

"Yeah," said Tina. She pushed the door open further and we all stepped into the tunnel.

A meter and a half from the door, Rico lay facedown, blood pooling beneath his torso, the back of his head looking like a ruptured melon. Two meters away from him were a pair of electrical leads attached to a Taser lying on the floor.

I looked at Tina. "And a Taser?"

She shrugged. "Got 'im before he boosted. But he didn't go down." She indicated ths pistol. "So I greased him. Before he ended me."

"Everyone out?" said Kyle.

"Yeah," she said. "I stayed back to look for you."

"Rico standing guard?" said Kyle.

Tina nodded. "Said Dylan already sent you"--she inclined her head at Kyle--"and two others ahead to the site. Friggin' liar. I heard your message. Left, then came back."

Footfalls. Far end of the passage.

We looked.

A figure carrying a duffle bag in one hand and two rifles slung over one shoulder stepped into the glow of a wall lamp then stopped short, eyes going wide at the sight of Rico's body. "Shit--!"

I recognized him from the dirt road earlier. The Claw member with the hook-nose.

Tina gestured at him. "Bag."

Hook Nose nodded, took one last look at the body, then skirted past it, toward us, and set the bag on the floor. "Here they are," he said.

"So what the hell's going on?" Tina said.

Kyle told her.

While he did, I went down on one knee, opened the bag, reached in, pulled out the Twins, and looked them over.

Their weight felt good in my hands.

Like reuniting with old friends.

Old good friends.

"Okay, already," said Mouse, dropping to one knee next to me. She reached in, pulled out her wakizashis in their scabbards, grinned, and let out a short cackle.

Mouse loves her pointy toys.

I checked the mags on both guns, then the chambers.

Loaded. Round in the pipe.

Slid them into my shoulder rig.

Then back into the bag for my spare mags, slipped them into the mag holders on my gear belt, then pulled out the two MP5s and the three extra mags for each.

"Ready?" said Kyle.

I rose to my feet "Where's Beck?"

Kyle frowned. "Why?"

"Tell me where he is and we'll get out of your hair."

"What about Dylan?"

"Not my fight."

"After telling us about Dylan, you're just gonna leave?" Tina said and leveled her AK-47 at me. "Fuck that. You want Beck, you gotta go through me."

"Don't be stupid," I said. "Time's wasting. Your friends are on their way to get killed. You better help them."

"Heartless bitch," said Tina.

"Been called worse," I said.

"Believe her," said Mouse.

Kyle put a hand on the barrel of Tina's rifle. "Hold up." He looked at me for several seconds. "I get it."

Tina shot him a puzzled look. "What?"

A grin crept across Kyle's face. "She'll help if we hire her."

"Smart boy!" Mouse said, applauding. "Surpised you're not Mac's second."

Kyle made a face. "Long story." He nodded once at me. "Okay. I'm hiring you. Help us take down Dylan and keep Claw from getting blown to hell. How does ten grand sound?"

Mouse gave a low whistle.

"Sound good," I said.

"Where do you have ten grand?" Mouse said.

"Nevermind that," said Kyle.

"Are you crazy?" said Tina. "She's--!"

Kyle leaned in toward Tina's ear, said something, and Tina went saucer-eyed. Then he drew back, his face grim.

She looked at him. "You sure?"

He nodded.

Her expression went grim, too. She looked at me and nodded once. "Okay."

"Okay." I looked between the two of them, then at Kyle. "Now, Beck."

* * *

It was another "waiting room," this one further down the tunnels, beyond the big cavern, and also housed supply crates behind a thick metal door.

Beck got to his feet when Mouse and I and Kyle stepped inside the cave.

He looked a little worse for wear. His clothes were dirt-stained and rumpled and he had a nice shiner beneath his left eye and a cut on his lower lip.

"You okay?" I said.

He nodded then indicated the lip and black eye. "Except for these."

"They do anything to you?"

"Some bald asshole pistol-whipped me back at the aerodyne," he said.

"He won't bother you again."

"Brought me in here. Shut the door. Haven't seen anyone 'til you guys came in. We leaving now?"

"Not yet. You're gonna stay here a little longer."

He shot a suspicious look at Kyle.

"Don't worry about him," I said. "He's with us now."

Beck nodded. "Okay. But one thing."

"Yeah?"

"Got anything to eat?"

* * *

Kyle had opened one of the supply crates and let Beck help himself to some ration bars and water bottles then came out of the cave and closed the door and stood with us in the tunnel outside.

"How far to town?" I said to Kyle.

"Three miles," he said. "Let's move."

(to be continued...)

"Into The Woods" - Part Nine

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 09:00:00 +0000

After I told Kyle, I heard Cutter say, "Sleazy son of a whore!"

Kyle quirked an eyebrow at me. "When?" he said.

"About an hour ago," I said.

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure it was this Dylan."

"And the other guy?"

"Definitely corpsec."

"You could tell."

"Yeah, I could."

Kyle looked at me, brow furrowed, and I could tell gears were turning in his head.

Then he looked at Mouse, then at Cutter.

"Cutter," he said. "You flew them."

"Yeah," said Cutter.

"They on the level?"

"And then some."

"So this Beck isn't Capital."

Cutter snorted. "Not by a longshot. Their employer deals tech gear. The expensive stuff."

Kyle's brow creased further and he scratched his chin. He was about to say something when a knock came on the door.

We turned to look.

Tina had poked her head in and was looking at Kyle. "Mac wants to talk to you," she said.

* * *

It was another hour and a half before the door opened again.

Kyle came in with a large, filled plastic bag in one hand.

I got up from where I'd been sitting on the cave floor next to a crate stack. "Well?"

Kyle looked like his favorite pet had died. "No dice," he said, then held up the plastic bag. "Water bottles and some sandwiches."

"Real meat?" said Mouse, getting to her feet.

Kyle snorted. "Yeah, right." He set the bag on the ground in front of us and headed for the door.

"Did you tell Mac what I told you?" I said.

Kyle stopped and turned back to me. "I said no dice. Dylan is Mac's favorite. He can't do any wrong in her eyes. She wasn't having any of it."

"She that blind?"

"Dylan's helped her plan every raid on Capital for the last three months," Kyle said. "Every single one's gone off without a hitch. But after what you told me earlier, I got to thinking. It was too good to be true."

"What do you mean 'gone off without a hitch'?"

"No casualties. In any of the raids."

"None?" I said.

He shook his head. "None of ours."

"Doesn't make sense," said Cutter, seated again on the edge of the crate stack. "Capital's corpsec teams are Excalibur trained."

"And Excalibur's almost as good as military spec ops," Mouse said.,

"Which tells me there's something fishy," I said, "and Dylan's involved."

Kyle's eyes went to slits. "You're saying Dylan could be a plant."

"Yeah," I said. "Or one of yours who decided to sell out."

"He owes me a new aerodyne," said Cutter.

A thought struck.

"That cavern we were in before," I said. "There was a lot of activity."

"Getting ready for a raid tonight..." Kyle's voice trailed off and his eyes widened.

I was way ahead of him.

"He's setting you up," I said, then turned toward the door. "Aren't you."

Dylan stood just inside the cave, arms folded across his chest. Just behind him stood another Claw member, a giant solid Samoan man with close-cropped platinum blond hair and a scowl on his face.

"You're really nosy, aren't you," Dylan said to me.

"You fucking traitor," Kyle said reached for the pistol in his leg holster.

The Samoan was wired and he moved, fast.

A split-second later, Kyle flew backwards, arms and legs pinwheeling, and smashed into a pile of crates, knocking them over, spilling their contents onto the cave floor.

"Holy shit," said Mouse and darted toward Kyle.

Cutter hopped down from the crate stack and joined Mouse.

I turned back.

The Samoan stood where Kyle had been, tree trunk-sized forearm held up in front of his massive chest, his other hand clutching the pistol that had been in Kyle's holster.

Dylan shot me a humorless smile. "Stay here. Be good."

"Does Mac know you sold your soul to the corporate machine she's fighting against?" I said.

He fixed me with a piercing look.

I gave it right back to him.

He bared his teeth in a feral smile. "Let's go," he said.

The big Samoan grunted a reply, turned, and the two of them went out the door and it boomed shut behind them.

I turned to Mouse. "How is he?"

She was helping Kyle sit up. "Looks okay," she said.

"I'm fine," said Kyle, wincing. "Just a little sore."

I went over and knelt down on one knee next to Kyle. "We've got to warn Mac."

Kyle indicated the door. "We'll never get through that. It's fifteen centimeters thick. Besides, you heard her. She's not going to believe you. She didn't believe me."

"Then we have to tell someone else," I said.

"Like who?"

"Is everybody here a blind follower?"

Kyle scowled. "What that's supposed to mean?"

I held up both hands. "I'm just asking if you follow Mac without thinking."

"I know where she's coming from," Kyle said. "Her husband was killed by Capital corpsec when he and a bunch of others tried to fight back after being downsized. That's how the first Claw got started. After they got downsized, a bunch of ex-employees vandalized Capital property. Threw rocks and bottles. Graffiti. Pushed around some employees. Capital retaliated and went after them. Sent a team to a local bar. Rounded up ten of them. ID'd from security cameras. Mac's husband and my dad were in that group. Took 'em out back and shot 'em." His expression went dark. "I saw it happen."

"Shit," said Mouse.

"How many got downsized?" I said.

"Thirty people. After the bar shooting, Claw took in about hundred members. Ran a bunch of raids. Capital went out and hunted them down. Killed over eighty of them. The ones who got away stayed away. Stayed quiet."

"You said 'the first Claw'," I said. "This would be the second Claw, right?"

Kyle nodded. "Started up six months ago. We joined at the end of May."

" 'We'?"

He gave me a small smile. "Me and my sister. Tina." Then his eyes brightened. "We can tell her."

"Tina?" I said.

"Yeah."

"How?" I said and gestured to the door. "Fifteen centimeters thick."

He grinned. "Morse code."

I blinked. "You know it?"

Kyle nodded. "You?"

"Yeah. Our old mentor taught us."

"Grandpa," said Kyle. "He learned it from something called a boy scout. Anyway, he taught it to me and Tina. We'd send each other messages when we were kids."

"How're you planning to send it?"

Kyle got to his feet and gestured at the door. "She knows I went back here after talking to Mac. She'll come to check if I'm not out there."

"And you're going to use the door to tap out the message," I said.

"Yup," Kyle said with a grin.

I returned the grin. "I like it."

(to be continued...)

"Into The Woods" - Part Eight

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 14:33:00 +0000

The mine entrance sat in the hillside some fifty meters from the rear of the house, set back into the hill and framed by a supporting arch of thick wooden beams.

A surly-looking Claw member with a goatee and long blond hair underneath a wide blue bandana stood to one side of the entrance, an AK-47 leveled at us.

"Nice digs," I said.

Kyle motioned us toward the entrance. "This way," he said and went inside.

Mouse glanced at me. "Better not be any rabid bears in there. I'm unarmed."

Tina prodded me in the back of the shoulder with the muzzle of her rifle. "Keep moving," she said.

* * *

Inside the tunnel, the temperature dropped at least fifteen degrees, and I shuddered as the cool air chilled the sweat on my face and the back of my neck. The tunnel was at least three meters wide, the ceiling about as tall, with rocky walls. Wall lamps and support arches reinforced with metal beams were evenly spaced along the length of the tunnel. Thick bundles of cables and wire ran along the bottom edge of either wall.

After passing several side tunnels, we emerged into large cavern with four tunnels branching out from it. More Claw members were here, some passing through carrying equipment and duffel bags, others huddled in small groups and talking.

Kyle signaled a stop and motioned to Tina and another from the group, spoke briefly with them. They nodded and came back to us.

I turned to Kyle. "You said you'd take us to Mac."

"I will," he said. "They're just taking you to a waiting room."

"Let's go," said Tina, and she headed toward the nearest tunnel on our left.

As we started after her, I glanced back.

Kyle was talking to a man in a faded black t-shirt and faded jeans.

The same man from the Airpark Cafe.

Sonofabitch.

Then a thought clicked into place.

And I didn't like it one bit.

* * *

The waiting room turned out to be a cave roughly the size of the Red Dog's back office and filled with stacks of crates two-deep along the walls. Supplies, from the look of some of the labels. Two lamps perched on opposite walls gave off a sickly yellow glow. A thick steel door stood between us and the tunnel beyond.

Cutter tested one of the crate stacks, then hauled himself on top of it and leaned back against the cave wall.

Mouse rapped on the door with her knuckles. "This is not good."

"Something else not good," I said.

"Isn't there always?"

I told her about the guy at the cafe and the guy I just saw in the cavern.

Mouse frowned. "You sure?"

"Positive."

"This is a hunch again, isn't it."

I grinned at her. "Never wrong yet."

"Always a first time," said Mouse.

* * *

Half an hour later, the door clanged and creaked open.

Kyle walked in, followed by a statuesque woman dressed in rumpled green fatigues like the others, long, dark, curly hair swept back from a face with high cheekbones. She had a sidearm in a drop-leg holster and an AK with a folding stock hung from a three-point sling just behind her right hip.

She stepped into the middle of the cave, feet apart, hands on her hips, and regarded us with penetrating brown eyes. "I'm Mac," she said. "I hear you've got something to say to me."

Cutter jumped down from the crate stack and stalked toward Mac. "Since when does Dylan give orders around here?" he said. "I thought you were in charge."

Mac turned to him. "I am."

"Did you order your idiots to shoot down my aerodyne?"

"I did," said Mac.

Cutter went saucer-eyed. "What the fuck, Mac?"

"Dylan said you were carrying a Capital suit."

I stepped forward. "He's not a Capital suit."

Mac and I were standing eye to eye.

The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. "Big girl."

"The guy your people took off the crashed aerodyne isn't Capital," I said. "He's a tech for Lux Technologies."

"Liar," said Mac.

"Why would I lie?"

"You corp muscle are all alike. Brainless thugs slaving for the corporate machine."

Mouse said, "You borrow that line from a vid?"

Someone fought back a snorted laugh.

Mac frowned.

"If you give him back," I said to Mac, "we'll get out of your hair."

Mac's eyes narrowed at me. "Telling me what to do? In my own camp?"

"If something happens to Beck, I'm taking it out on you."

Mac shot me a look of contempt. "We're done here," she said and turned to leave.

I put a hand on her arm. "No, we're not," I said.

She swatted my hand away and rounded on me. "Touch me again and I'll kill you."

"You can try," I said.

We locked eyes for what seemed like forever.

Then she snorted, stepped back, turned, and headed for the door.

"Who's the guy in the black t-shirt?" I said. "Skinny. Scruffy chin."

Mac stopped by the door, looked back toward me, eyes slitted. "I said we were done." She turned and walked out.

"You owe me an aerodyne, goddammit!" Cutter said.

Kyle looked after Mac. Then he signaled to someone beyond the door, turned, and walked up to me, eyes narrowed, and folded his arms across his chest. "Faded black t-shirt? Was in the other cave a while ago?"

I nodded.

"His name's Dylan. Mac's second." He tilted his head to one side. "Why?"

(to be continued...)

"Into The Woods" - Part Seven

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 09:00:00 +0000

The paved road turned into a one-lane dirt road wide enough for a large ATV and snaked up into the hills under tree cover.

We were about half a klick along when a leanly-built black man with short, cropped hair wearing rumpled green fatigues and a gear belt with a holstered pistol stepped out from the treeline five meters away on our right, planted himself in the middle of the road, and said, "Stop right there and put down your weapons."

Mouse and I trained the MP5s at him.

"Don't think so," I said.

Then Cutter stepped forward, the AK held down at his side. "Okay--which of you numbnuts shot down my aerodyne?"

The line of trees to our right exploded in a spray of wood chunks and leaves under the rolling burst from a machinegun hidden further up the road.

"Shit," said Mouse.

The man folded his arms across his chest. "Weapons down."

"Putting them down," I said and set the MP5 on the ground.

Mouse gave me a sidelong look as she did the same then slid off her back scabbards. "Is now a good time for your plan?"

I unholstered the Twins and set them next to the submachinegun. "You mean the one I don't have yet?"

"That's that one."

Cutter took another step forward. "Kyle? Is that you? You wanna tell me who the hell shot me down?"

The man--Kyle--turned to Cutter and pointed a finger at him. "You," he said. "Wait." He swung the finger at us. "You. Take two steps back."

Mouse and I complied.

"I'm waiting, Kyle," said Cutter.

"Back off, Cutter," said Kyle, "and put the damn rifle down."

"This is bullshit," said Cutter and he put the AK on the ground and stepped aside. "I wanna talk to Mac."

Kyle ignored him, pulled a walkie-talkie from his gear belt, and spoke into it.

Trees and bushes around us rustled and six figures emerged, all wearing the same green fatigues, all armed with AK-47s. They stood in a semi-circle, rifles trained at us.

One of them--a petite black woman with copper hair pulled back in a tight ponytail--slung her rifle, stepped forward, and patted me down. Then Mouse, smiling every time she pulled a knife from some hidden sheath, and set those down on the ground. When she got to Cutter, she gave him a lascivious grin.

"Be nice, Tina," Cutter said, his brow furrowed..

Tina's grin grew wider.

She took her sweet time with him.

When she finally finished, she swatted him on the ass, stepped back, and turned to Kyle. "They're clean."

Kyle looked us over, eyes narrowed. He spoke into the walkie, listened to the reply, then looked at the others. "Where's Bishop? I thought he was at the site?"

"Is Bishop big and bald with a mustache and nasty b.o?" I said.

Kyle turned to me. "Why?"

"If he is, he tried to feel up my partner." I indicated Mouse.

"Yeah," Mouse said. "It's true. I stabbed him in the neck for that. He won't be joining us anymore."

Tina fought back a snorted laugh and turned away.

A hook-nosed Claw member grunted and said, "Asshole deserved it."

"Enough," Kyle said, then looked at me and Mouse. "Thirty seconds to explain what you're doing here. I don't like it, we grease you."

"What about my aerodyne?" said Cutter.

"Dylan's orders," said Kyle. "Said you were running for Capital."

"That's bullshit!," said Cutter. "What does he know anyway. And what did Mac say?"

"Is this Mac in charge?" I said to Cutter.

Cutter snorted. "Supposed to be."

"Hey--!" said Kyle.

"Take us to Mac" I said to Kyle.

"Why don't I just shoot you two right now?" Kyle said.

I popped optics to thermo and raked my gaze across the Claw members, saw what I needed, popped back to norm viz. Gave Mouse a slight nod.

Her eyes smiled.

I said to Kyle: "Tell you why not."

A subvocalized command filled my body with adrenaline stimulators and the world slid into slo-mo.

I bolted forward, bent, scooped up Bonnie from the pile on the ground, and closed on Kyle. His eyes just started to widen when I reached him, grabbed the back of his shirt with my left hand, shoved Bonnie up under his chin, spun us both so that he was between men and the others.

Out of the corner of my eye, ahead and to my right, Mouse had Tina in front of her in a modified headlock, one hand cupped around her jaw, exposing her throat, while the edge of a Bowie knife lay against the other woman's throat.

I dropped boost, heard my pulse thudding against my chest and my temples, took a couple of slow deep breaths through my nose. Then I angled Kyle slightly so he could see Mouse and Tina. "See why not?"

Beyond, the other Claw members swept their rifles between me and Mouse, confusion on their faces.

"Well?" I said to Kyle.

He turned head toward me, his expression gone dark, his eyes narrowed. "My man's got a light MG aimed at your back," he said.

I dug Bonnie's muzzle further into the underside of his chin. "I get you first," I said, "and my partner slices your girl." I gave him a humorless grin. "Wanna chance it?"

Kyle's nostrils flared a couple of times. Then he swallowed. "Okay," he said. "I'll take you to Mac."

* * *

Mouse and I surrendered our weapons--again--then fell into line with the other Claw members and we headed up the dirt road.

After fifteen minutes of walking, the road rounded a bend and led into an open area. Ahead of us, four outbuildings--shacks, really--stood in a semi-circle beneath a stand of trees, most missing planks from their walls and roofs. On our left was a one-story building, its two front windows missing glass.

The road went around the outbuildings along the left, past the remains of some large building, toward a two-story house. A set of stone steps led up from the road to a covered wrap-around porch. Tree-studded hills rose up around the house and open space.

I spotted a figure in the house's front window looking out from behind curtains. Before I could get a better look, the figure stepped away and the curtains fell back into place.

"I thought there was a mine here?" said Mouse.

"Back side of the house," said Cutter.

"How many in the house?" I said.

"Dunno," said Cutter.

"Doubt there's fifty-plus people in a two-story," said Mouse and shook her head. "Was me, I'd kill someone pretty quick."

"The way you snore," I said, "they'd kill you first so they could sleep."

She stuck her tongue out at me.

(to be continued...)

"Into The Woods" - Part Six

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Outside, standing two meters away, the aerodyne looked even worse than before. The RPG had taken out the rear left thrusterpod and part of the rear fuselage. Burned and twisted metal still smoked and what paint scheme there was on the main body had been scraped off, as if by some monster talons, exposing bare metal beneath.

Cutter had brought the aerodyne down but managed to take out a stand of trees and a house. Now the craft sat at a slight angle atop at pile of debris and tree parts.

"Damn," said Mouse as we looked at the crash.

"Fucking assholes owe me," Cutter said, walking up to us.

"How the hell are we supposed to get back to Redding?" Mouse said.

"We'll deal with that later. First, we get Beck." I looked at Cutter.

He nodded and gestured toward the narrow paved road ahead. "This way."

We started after him.

"You sure you know where you're going?" said Mouse.

Cutter turned so he was facing us but kept walking backwards. He gestured around him with one hand. "We're in French Gulch. About thirty klicks west of Redding. Place died twenty-five years ago. Claw uses this as a kind of landing area for supply runs."

"Meaning people like you help them out," I said.

"Strictly a job," he said. "I don't take sides."

"Money talks."

"Bingo."

"So you've been here before?" said Mouse.

"Three times," said Cutter. "Supply run, like I said. Food. Parts. Materials. Clothing. You name it."

"Why not just drive up here from Redding?" I said.

"If Capitol got wind of a supply run, they could blockade the city. No one in or out. Or take out a truck or two enroute. Aerodynes can land pretty much anywhere. It was a no brainer."

"At least until Capitol gets their own aerodynes."

"Until then," said Cutter.

I said: "You know them. They know you. Why'd they shoot you down?"

"That's what I want to find out."

* * *

We'd been walking for several minutes. On either side of the road were dilapidated houses buried in overgrown weeds. Rusted and dust-caked cars, tires gone flat and windows broken, sat in driveways and along the side of the road. From the dashboard of a nearby faded green sedan, a pair of squirrels sat on their haunches, noses twitching, staring as we went by.

"So where is Claw?" I said.

"They've got a base up in the hills," Cutter said. "There's a road that runs northeast from town. Leads up there."

"It's a fixed base?"

He nodded. "Used to be an old mine. Pretty sure they're using it now."

"Why not use the town?" said Mouse.

Cutter shrugged. "My guess is power. None out this way anymore. You'd have to use gennys. And that'd be a lot of them. Might as well just use the big one in the mine."

"Makes sense," Mouse said.

"Should be there in about an hour," said Cutter. He looked at me. "We just planning to go in, guns blazing?"

" 'Course not," I said.

"So you have a plan."

"Working on it."

Cutter stopped and gaped at me. "You're kidding, right?"

"You get used to it," said Mouse. "Just follow her lead."

"Follow her lead? What the hell kind of ronin are you?"

"The 'still alive' kind," I said.

"Makes things interesting," said Mouse, grinning.

* * *

Just like Cutter said, the paved, two-lane road led northeast away from town, flanked by three long-abandoned buildings on our left and a shrub-dotted rust-orange hillside that angled sharply upward on our right.

Mouse, keeping pace with me, said: "Why do you think these Claw guys grabbed Beck?"

"Best guess is ransom," I said. "Fighting against the corporations and all that. They know Cutter. We were armed so they probably figured we were hired muscle. Beck wasn't armed so he was probably the important one. Usually works that way."

"Good point. Always boils down to money."

"Most of the time."

Mouse wiped sweat from her forehead and shifted her shoulders beneath her back scabbard harness. "I hate this heat."

"Me, too," I said, feeling the sweat spreading across my upper back, and the thin lines snaking down the side of my face.

Mouse inclined her head at Cutter who walked several paces ahead, the AK held at low-ready position, head scanning the road ahead. "And him?," she said. "Can we trust him?"

"For now," I said. "But I'm watching."

"He's kind of a mouth."

"He is."

"But nothing like Jake Steele, right?"

"I'm not answering that."

She snickered. "You just did."

I ignored her.

We walked on in silence for another few minutes, no other sound except for the dull thunk of our boots on the concrete, and the random call of a nearby bird or two.

Shortly, Mouse said: "You figure out how we're gonna play this yet?"

"The mine bothers me," I said. "One way in. One way out. Fatal funnels are a bitch. Remember Sakura and that old factory?"

She shuddered. "Yeah."

"I'll let you know when I figure something out."

"Make it quick."

(to be continued...)

"Into The Woods" - Part Five

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 08:00:00 +0000

I woke to a dull pain at the back of my head, a loud thump near my feet, a gargled protest, and the sour reek of body odor mingled with the scent of scorched metal.

Opened my eyes.

A thin haze of smoke hung in the air.

The cabin door stood open and a craggy-faced man with a thick horsehoe mustache dressed in faded green fatigues lay slumped against the edge of the door, surprise etched on his face, hands clawing at his neck, blood gushing between his fingers and onto his chest. He twitched a couple of times, then lay still.

"He was trying to cop a feel."

Mouse. To my left.

I turned to her.

She was slipping out of the restraints, wincing as she did, a bloody Bowie knife in her right hand.

"Me?" I said.

"Me," said Mouse.

"You okay?"

"Headache," she said. "Sore."

"Was I out?"

"Yeah. Me, too."

"How long?"

"I came to just as he"--he gestured to the dead man at the door--"started groping me."

I undid my restraints, felt my muscles and my head complain, and looked at the man. "Who is he? And what the hell happened?"

"We got hit," Cutter said, staggering into the cabin from the cockpit. He winced, leaned against the bulkhead, and shut his eyes tight. "RPG, my guess. Glancing hit or we'd be gone." He opened his eyes again, took a step, looked down at the body by the door, and scowled. "You stupid bastard!" he said to the corpse. "Why the fuck did you shoot me down?"

"Kat," said Mouse.

I turned back to her.

"Beck's missing."

Looked around the cabin.

Beck had been sitting in the bench seat next ot the doors.

The seat was empty.

Shit.

* * *

"We have a slight problem," I said to Renaldi over the secured satphone.

"Beck?" he said.

"First off," I said. "We got to your nephew just in time."

Renaldi said nothing. Loudly.

Then: "In time for what?"

"Working remote was a cover," I said. "He was in forced exile. And they were planning to grease him at 13:00 today because he wouldn't talk about you and Paragon."

"Of course not," said Renaldi. "Beck doesn't know anything. So what's the problem?"

"We got shot down heading back to Redding. And Beck is gone."

A pause. Then: "I see."

"Just wanted to let you know there might be a slight delay."

"I understand. Do what you have to do."

"We will."

I hung up then turned to Cutter who was crouching near the body. "What's going on?"

Cutter tilted his cap back and gestured the dead man, the scowl still on his face. "He's a Claw."

"A what?" said Mouse.

"C.L.A.," said Cutter. "Civilian Liberation Army. Anti-corporate guerillas."

"Oh, great," said Mouse. "Fanatics."

"They prefer 'freedom fighters'," Cutter said. "Battling against the multinational giants to preserve small town America. 'S how their pitch goes."

Mouse gave a snort.

"Pipe dream," I said. "Hasn't been a 'small town' or an 'America' since The Collapse. And that was three decades ago. Who's the big corp player around these parts?"

"Capital Biologics," said Cutter. "Cleantech megacorp."

"And they probably use Excalibur for security," I said.

"No," said Cutter. "Got their own forces. But Excalibur-trained."

"And these Claw? What are they working with?"

"Stolen weapons, mostly. Some black market. Automatic rifles. RPGs. Maybe a machinegun or two. And pistols."

"How many people are we talking about?"

"Fifty or more."

Mouse gave a low whistle. "Gonna be rough."

"We can do it," I said.

"You're going after them to get your guy back, aren't you," said Cutter.

"Damn right," said Mouse.

"I'm coming along. Bastards shot me down and I want to know why." He turned and stepped back into the cockpit.

I reached underneath the benchseat, pulled out the gear bags, and opened them. Took out Mouse's wakizashis--Japanese short swords--and her back scabbards. Two Heckler and Koch MP5 submachineguns. An old Remington 870 pump-action 12-gauge shotgun. Spare magazines for the MP5s. Three cans of ammo.

Mouse put on her back scabbards.

I gave one of the MP5s to Mouse along with spare mags. Took the other for myself, slipped the extra mags into the bellows pockets of my pants.

Cutter came back into the main cabin wearing a tactical vest bulging with spare magazines and carrying an AK-47. He took one look at the opened duffles and gave a start.

"You always carry that much firepower?" he said.

"Always," I said.

(to be continued...)

"Into The Woods"
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6

"Into The Woods" - Part Four

noreply@blogger.com (Ace) — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 08:00:00 +0000

We had landed at the edge of a wide clearing. In the center stood a low, single-story, weatherbeaten cabin that looked like it had been built well over two hundred years ago. Shingles were missing from the roof, a brick chimney slouched against the side of the cabin, and a tall pile of chopped firewood hunched next to a covered front porch.

I spotted two of them. Cookie-cutter corp muscle with the same dark suit, same dark mirrorshades, same haircuts. They watched from the edge of the porch as Mouse and I emerged from the aerodyne and walked toward the cabin.

I kept both hands at my sides.

As we got closer, I called out: "Morning, gents."

The first muscle stepped off the porch and came to intercept me.

Saw the other muscle on the porch sidestep to keep me in view.

Heard Mouse veer away to my right.

The first muscle had his left arm up and held out in front of him, palm out. He stopped two meters away. "This is a restricted area."

"We're here for the tech," I said, still walking toward him.

His brow furrowed. "You're early."

"Orders are orders," I said.

The furrow deepened. "I should double-check."

I smiled at him. "Sure."

Confusion crawled across his face but he shook that off, reached into his suit coat pocket, pulled out a phone, touched the keypad.

And I reversed my grip on the ballistic knife in my right hand, pointed it at the muscle, and thumbed the switch. The gas propellant gave a soft chuff and the blade speared the muscle's throat.

He gagged and went saucer-eyed, blood pouring from the hole and splashing down the front of his shirt, staggered back a step, dropped the phone, left hand clawing at his throat, right hand brushing back his coat and reaching for his sidearm.

Stupid.

I closed on him, pinned his left hand against his throat, trapped his right wrist on top of his hip holster, slipped a foot behind his leg, and shoved him onto the ground. He dropped, head bouncing against the dirt, and I held him down, felt him twitch and jerk beneath me, blood pooling and sinking into the grass and rocks underneath.

He gave one final gargled protest, jerked, and went still.

I got to my feet, checked on Mouse.

She was at the porch railing, wiping blood from her wakizashi onto the back of the other muscle's suit. He was draped over the railing, blood dripping onto the ground below.

"Clear?" I said.

"Five by five" said Mouse. "Just them."

Renaldi had said three to four guards.

Mouse must've seen the look on my face. She said, "Maybe the others are inside?"

"Let's find out," I said.

We stepped onto the porch and to either side of the cabin door, Mouse to the right, me on the left. The door opened outward and had a rusted knob.

Mouse pointed at the door.

Partially open.

I put the ballistic knife handle in my pants pocket, drew Bonnie, dropped to a crouch, reached for the knob, and yanked the door open.

A wooden barstool whipped across the air above my head and splintered against the doorframe.

I rose up, shoved Bonnie's muzzle into the surprised face of the twentysomething male wearing an oversized t-shirt and baggy jeans standing just inside the doorway and he jumped back with a yelp, wide-set eyes like plates, hands raised, his breath coming in gasps.

It was Beck.

"Don't!" he said.

I stepped inside, Bonnie still leveled at his face.

Glanced around.

The cabin interior was one large room with a small kitchen to one side and a door that led to a tiny bathroom at the opposite end of the front door. A battered mud-brown couch sat in the middle of the room atop a once-white area rug. To the left stood the fireplace. On the front wall, to the right of the door, were two long folding tables with a mass of cables, wires, electronic parts and components, and computer equipment.

I heard Mouse come up behind me and step to one side.

And Beck's jaw dropped. "Natty?" he said.

Mouse and I exchanged looks.

Of course.

Natalia Renaldi.

Beck's cousin.

Mouse threw back her head and laughed, loud and hearty.

I grinned at Beck.

He took a step back. "What the fuck?"

"That's my partner," I said. "Mouse."

His shoulders sagged with relief and he dropped his hands and let out a long sigh. "You're Kat and Mouse. Natty told me about you two." Then he turned toward Mouse and looked at her with narrowed eyes, as if searching for something.

Mouse frowned at him. "What?"

"Jesus Christ, you look just like her," said Beck.

"Is she still whiny?" said Mouse. "Or has she finally grown up?"

Beck grinned. "She grew up. Doesn't complain as much now."

"About time," said Mouse.

I said to Beck, "You okay?"

"You mean aside from being cooped up in here while two gorillas with guns stand outside?"

I shot him a smirk. "Yeah."

He nodded. "I'm wiz. Can we go now?"

I jerked my head toward the cabin door. "Was it just those two out there?"

"You were hoping for more?" said Beck.

"Little too easy," I said.

"Natty was right," said Beck. "You guys are nuts."

"We know," said Mouse.

"So can we jet?" said Beck.

I gestured to the table of equipment. "Don't you need any of that?"

"They can keep that shit," he said.

"Clothes?"

He shook his head. "Maybe Uncle Phil'll spring for new ones."

* * *

Four minutes after we left the cabin and were cruising back toward Redding, the aerodyne lurched sharply to one side, hurling us against the seat restraints.

And the world vanished in a flash of light and a clap of thunder.

(to be continued...)

"Into The Woods"
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5