Authors: Marianne de Pierres
Crash Deluxe (19 page)
The view, though, was worth it: east across hundreds of flowering bougainvilleas, white yachts. Picture-perfect and dangerously distracting. Enough to make anyone forget.
‘Quite,’ Bras replied to my question.
‘You got quality vreal there?’
‘The best. 6-Gen.’
I whistled. 5-Gen had just about cooked my goose. Only one person I knew could get me in and out of 6-Gen. Merv.
But how could I get him away from Lavish?
Glorious.
Her name forced its way into my consciousness.
Is she alive? Can I bear to find out?
Her name forced its way into my consciousness.
Is she alive? Can I bear to find out?
I turned to Mal. ‘Do you know the Brightbeach bridge? I want to meet with someone there tomorrow morning, early. I’ll need transport and some way to get past the ID scans.’
‘Yes,
Miss.
’
Miss.
’
Miss.
The word me want to snap my teeth at her. But even I wasn’t stupid enough to aggravate Mal. One swat from her fist and my brains would be paste. I settled for a grimace and a ‘Call me Parrish.’
The word me want to snap my teeth at her. But even I wasn’t stupid enough to aggravate Mal. One swat from her fist and my brains would be paste. I settled for a grimace and a ‘Call me Parrish.’
She grunted and left us, distrust knitted into the aggressive hunch of her shoulders. Mal didn’t think I was suitable company for Bras.
Funny thought, considering.
I moved over to the window and tried to invent a plan. The Pan-Sats were due to air in a few days. What they wanted me to do was impossible.
Not that I was one to back out of a challenge. But pressure invariably got me acting crazy.
‘I should thank you,’ said Bras
‘What for?’ I didn’t look at her. Whatever she was working up to had been long rehearsed. I could hear it in her measured tone.
‘What you did in The Tert . . . those men would have killed me. Or the next ones that came along. My death was certain.’
Yeah, well, we all share that one.
‘What happened when the ’Terro took you?’ I asked.
‘What happened when the ’Terro took you?’ I asked.
‘They put me in a holding cell on Jinberra in the Midas section. I’d still be there if Gerwent hadn’t been watching the LTA broadcast when I was taken. He made inquiries and bid for me.’
I shot her a glance. ‘What do you mean, “bid”?’
‘It’s the one remaining privilege the Royals share with the media. They have the right to buy anyone out of Militia custody for an agreed price.’
‘You were lucky.’
Bras shrugged. ‘I’m not the only one who’s been bought.’
I nodded, encouraging her to go on. What had she heard?
‘In Midas there are a lot of stories. A few of them are famous. One was about a witch doctor from Merika. I never knew her name because you only got told it when you paid for someone else to wind up dead. The other was about a man they called Wombat. It was the story that gave me hope.’
My heart leaped up into my throat and made it hard to breathe. ‘What was that story about?’
‘Somebody bought him out of a prolonged-life sentence. Then he kept coming back and getting others out. They say he was building a better, safer place. I used to dream about what it would be like there.’ She stopped staring out of the window. ‘I wound up here instead but I still wonder what that place is like.’
I kept my shudder and the truth to myself. Let her keep her dream. ‘Why do you think Gerwent bought you?’
Bras’s shortness of breath came back, and the wild, feral look. ‘Because he thought you would come after me. It’s
you
he really wants. Not me.’
you
he really wants. Not me.’
I gaped at her in total disbelief. ‘You’re winding me up.’
‘He’s been planning this a long time but they needed the right person to be their focus. Someone convincing and . . .’
‘Nuts?’
‘That’s you, Parrish.’ She trailed off into a whisper. ‘You didn’t come for me. But he’s patient. He waited for an opportunity. One of the Polity is a client of the Luxoria. We heard you were there, so he paid one of the employees to watch you.’
‘Who? Lam?’
‘No. I think his name was Tae.’
I stared at her, surprised in more than one way. ‘You expected . . . wanted me to come after you?’
‘I told him you wouldn’t.’ She shrugged.
I didn’t know what to make of that. Had I somehow let Bras down? I’d barely known the kid.
‘He gets what he wants,’ she added.
So I’m nuts and convincing, eh?
Then why were my knees trembling? Why could I picture a spider shutting its trapdoor?
And yet I couldn’t run away from this opportunity.
‘What will this parasite do to me?’ Bras asked.
I sighed. ‘Nothing good. But if you fight, we might be able to find a way to stop it.’ I touched her lightly on the head. ‘Be strong
inside
, Bras. It’s all you’ve got in the end.’
inside
, Bras. It’s all you’ve got in the end.’
The next morning at dawn Mal and an Intimate took me out in a baby Sikorsky that Mal called a FlashHawk.
I watched the rooftop advertibles as the Intimate logged into the flight queue heading south, and contemplated how unfit I would be if I sat around much longer doing nothing.
I’d been past the limits of physical exhaustion in recent times. Now I was tired from inactivity.
And lack of sleep. I’d wrestled the entire night with my problems, till in the end I’d booted up Merry 3# and voiced in everything else I could think of. It was dangerous keeping a record like this but forgetting something might be just as lethal.
Merry had jigged as she looked around, acting like she’d made it first through the doors at an emporium sale. ‘Oooh, ooh. Nice. Ooh, gorgeous. Ooh. Gucci. No way, Henry IV.’
‘Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.’
‘Oh? So what’s next on our travel itinerary?’ she sniped. ‘A pot hole? No, let me guess again. A drain?’
‘You wanna hear about what happens at p-diary rehab or are you just gonna run the patternware for me?’
She gave me the finger and disappeared. In her place a holo-schema of all the information that I’d collected shimmered.
As usual the overlaps and unmade connections gave me a headache. I didn’t for a second think that Gerwent Ban’s plan for a return to government was something that I really wanted or believed would make things better. But one thing I surely knew - NO ONE was going to air what happened in MoVay as a ratings ploy to be gawked at by dumb cits.
NO ONE.
‘Watch it.’
Mal’s curt order to the sombre blue-liveried Intimate brought me back to the present. She sat next to it in the co-pilot’s seat, possessively rechecking protocols. She didn’t like it flying her baby.
Better it than me, I figured.
I transferred my attention to what the FlashHawk had in the way of extras that I could recognise. It was an impressive little beast, sporting a couple of 7.62mm mini-guns hidden beneath the cabin windows, plus an external hoist, rappel, paradrop and fast rope. Seemed that Mal had done one or two quick extractions before.
A few minutes before we landed on the Brightbeach parking lot, Gerwent Ban commed. He sounded agitated and, when I craned over Mal to see, his face was slack with shock.
‘I have seen the initial download from the bio-ware you gave me.’
‘Yes?’ I tried not to hold my breath.
‘There is veracity in your story and the implications are . . . extraordinary. But I’ll discuss it with you on your return.’
I didn’t know if I felt relief. Or more fear.
‘Don’t run away on me, then,’ I said.
The link fizzed out before he could laugh.
We passed through security in the building adjacent to Cone Central and took the lift to Breeza’s. I was already sipping tea and watching the ’pedes waddle around 150 floors below when Merv came in, head down, preoccupied.
‘Hiya.’
He jumped at the sound of my voice, recognising it before he even saw me. Maybe he’d been having bad dreams too.
‘Easy, Merv,’ I added, patting the chair next to me.
Mal sat at a nearby table and the Intimate wearing the royal insignia stood stolidly in the doorway of the café. More back-up than I’d had in a long time.
I was starting to feel bulletproof.
Not good.
‘I got a job offer for you,’ I said.
Merv sank into the chair, paler than normal and shaking. ‘W-what are you doing here? Y-you’re dead.’
‘No. But I
am
in a hurry.’ I lowered my voice. ‘Come and work for me. I’ve got 6-Gen vreal and I can’t use it without you.’
am
in a hurry.’ I lowered my voice. ‘Come and work for me. I’ve got 6-Gen vreal and I can’t use it without you.’
His eyelids fluttered. ‘
6
-Gen. I m-mean . . . h-how are you going to p-pay me? You’re a c-criminal.’
6
-Gen. I m-mean . . . h-how are you going to p-pay me? You’re a c-criminal.’
Dead and a criminal? Nice.
I winced and gestured to the Intimate taking up space in the doorway of the café. ‘Recognise the livery?’
I winced and gestured to the Intimate taking up space in the doorway of the café. ‘Recognise the livery?’
He nodded, eyes widening.
‘Well, I got a new boss. He’s paying. Lavish won’t be able to touch you and there’ll be no more dead women to pack into the meat wagon.’
The last bit hung in the air between us.
I wanted to ask about Glorious but I couldn’t. If she was dead, which I was betting, I was afraid of what I might do. I had a lifetime of revenges stored up. The load was getting heavy.
Merv’s stare darted to the royal insignia and the cuts and bruises on my face. ‘I d-don’t know. Seems r-risky.’
Too right.
The hair on my body had begun to prickle. Something was wrong.
The hair on my body had begun to prickle. Something was wrong.
Mal must have had the same feeling because she pushed her seat back from the table.
‘Decide,’ I hissed. ‘Quick.’
Take him.
NO.
I rejected the Eskaalim voice in my head. I needed Merv to trust me if this was going to work. Besides, I couldn’t drag him out of here without attracting some major aggravation.
‘OK,’ said Merv, a little too wild-eyed for my comfort. ‘B-but it’s got to look like a k-kidnap.’
I was about to argue the point when I heard the noise of too many unfriendly boots. Militia bearing the eyelash insignia on their helmets burst through the doors on the Luxoria side a second later. I caught the briefest glimpse of Lavish, dancing smug behind their riot shields.
I yanked Merv between Mel and me and shouted for the Intimate to help. But it had disappeared.
We hauled arse to the opposite entrance, knocking diners off their chairs, but the lifts on that side were already opening for more Lashes.
‘Get behind the cafebar and stay down,’ Mal ordered.
I didn’t argue. I ran back there, hauling Merv with me, and vaulted the bench. Merv followed less easily, and then Mal, struggling, flashing her pylon-thick thighs. When she hit the floor the noise was deafening and the bridge shook.
No. Not Mal.
I peered up.
A hole had appeared in the top of the bridge, punched out by a neat laser-stroke. When the smoke cleared the FlashHawk descended through the shattered glass, the Intimate calm behind the stick.
Who said it can’t fly this thing?
The explosion had scattered the Militia Lashes entering from the Cone side but those approaching from the other side were waiting in safety.
‘Move,’ I screamed in Merv’s ear.
Mal catapulted us back over the counter and I scrambled over bodies and slammed a chair atop a table. It got me high enough to hook an arm around the FlashHawk’s landing gear. I swung my feet up and climbed onto the strut.
Merv imitated me but fell back, unable to hold his own weight.
I cursed his weak body and jumped down after him.
Crouching, I ordered him onto my shoulders.
As he complied, the ’copter tilted dangerously, its rotor blades chopping the long chains of the hanging baskets. Ferns and dirt sprayed in all directions, blinding me.
The angle gave Merv some purchase, though, and he threw himself into the cockpit.
I dashed dirt from my eyes and scrambled up after him. Mal climbed the chair to follow but it slipped and the table collapsed.
The Militia Lashes were nearly on her when I grabbed a mini-gun and started firing.
‘Lower the hoist,’ I bellowed at Merv.
‘I have the controls,’ the Intimate calmly informed me.
‘THEN DROP IT.’
I sprayed more bullets in an arc around Mal as the cable unravelled. She saw it and grabbed it with one giant fist.
We sailed up and out of the hole with Mal flashing her softer bits at the soldiers.
I waited for them to pick her off but no shots came.
‘They’re not firing. They’re too worried the bridge will collapse.’ Merv sounded like he might cry.
‘Get her in,’ I barked in relief.
The Intimate set the hoist to rewind. It groaned under Mal’s weight, reeling her in slowly until it jammed just short of the cabin door.
She clung onto the FlashHawk’s landing struts like a heavyweight boxer trying to rock-climb. The ’copter listed and Merv and I scrambled to the other side to balance it.
‘You will have to operate the manual controls on the hoist,’ said the Intimate.
I climbed over the back seat to the winch mechanism and wound like a demon. Slowly the winch turned over.
Mal felt the tug and let it lift her.
With Merv’s help, I managed to haul her in.
For a few seconds we all lay on the floor, panting.
‘Palace,’ Mal rasped at the pilot. And to me, gratefully, ‘Thanks.’
‘Yeah, well. Likewise.’
Some kinda ice-breaker.
Some kinda ice-breaker.
The Intimate projected the royal insignia ahead of us, making use of its priority rating to slipstream the traffic and jump spots in the queue. A Militia bat even escorted us part of the way until it peeled off to an emergency.
‘Why didn’t they blow us out of the sky?’
‘Running Man,’ Mal grunted.
‘What the freak does that mean?’
She stared at me. Perspiration and plant food weaved a muddy watercourse down her heavy face. ‘Didn’t you know? The Lashes work for Sera Bau. Running Man works for Monk and Axes are S.K. Laud. They only police on the same side or for the same things when it suits them.’
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