Ruthless (17 page)

A hand grabbed his wrist, dragging his hand up, the gun suddenly pointing at the ceiling. Nimbus pulled the trigger in surprise, firing into mid-air. He dropped his torch. Nimbus couldn't see in the dark.

Johnny could.

He wrenched Nimbus's arms to the side and slammed a fist into his face. Nimbus blinked in shock, his nose throwing blood over his nose and chin, and looked down at Johnny in surprise.

Johnny hit him again, and Nimbus stumbled back out into the corridor. He tripped backwards over a body on the floor and tumbled to the ground, smacking his head on the opposite wall as he fell. He looked up and saw the man with the milky-white eyes standing in the doorway.

Nimbus realised he didn't have his gun in his hand any more.

Johnny raised the small pistol and pointed it right at Nimbus's forehead.

Nimbus smiled, sure that this stranger wouldn't be so callous as to-

Johnny shot Nimbus in the head.

Red and grey gook smeared across the opposite wall. Nimbus's body refused to admit it was dead and lay sprawled, the left leg twitching with misplaced excitement. Johnny wasn't looking. He turned to look down the hallway where a second man was dragging a woman from another cabin.

"Nimbus!" shouted the second man as he dragged the woman in front of him as a shield. Johnny registered a ball gown in shimmering blue - she was probably on her way to the bar to try her luck. He saw a woman's eyes scrunched tightly shut, willing the terrible situation to go away; tears on a wet face. He saw tight curls of blonde hair and a tiara. And next to it, the snarling face of a sweating man, jamming the warm muzzle of a gun against her temple.

"Drop the gun," he yelled at Johnny. "Drop the gun or---"

Johnny shot him in the head, too. The little pistol made a ludicrously low-calibre noise, more of a slap than a shot. But a bullet was still a bullet.

The second gunman collapsed to the floor. His former hostage screamed some more. She took one look at Johnny's face and dropped to the ground, her hands over her head. All she saw was a man with a gun - she couldn't tell friend from foe.

Johnny darted across the hallway to an open cabin and fell to a crouch. No need to present a target at head height.

"Wulf," he called.

Wulf rolled off the bed where he had been hiding crammed next to Nigel. He hit the floor of the cabin and edged forward, staying low.

Johnny squinted along the dark corridor at the tangle of people up ahead. Undoubtedly there were more pirates there, but he couldn't separate the targets from the hostages. Johnny looked down at his stolen gun; it was a ceramic pistol, designed to escape metal detectors. They were hijackers, for sure.

"Out the door and to your left," said Johnny.

Wulf stayed on his hands and knees, his left arm flailing in search of something.

There was an anguished female squeal as he grabbed onto something he shouldn't have. The woman Johnny rescued had gained a little of her courage back. She lashed out with her fist and bolted away into the dark.

"Oh, sorry, cucumber," called Wulf after her retreating back. He leaned out into the corridor and finally found what he was looking for. It was another of the stealth pistols, right where the second gunman had dropped it.

"Got it?" called Johnny.

From somewhere in the ship came the sounds of more gunshots and screams.

"Got it," said Wulf.

"What's happening?" squealed the Gronk.

"Stay put," said Johnny. "You too, Nige. Just stay the sneck where you are."

"Gotcha," said Nigel.

"And hang onto the Gronk!" added Johnny.

Wulf snatched up the fallen torch. "Now where?" he said.

Johnny was thinking. Two men in this corridor. If this was a planned operation, which it sure as sneck had to be, they would take both cabin decks simultaneously. That meant two men in the corridor above, and maybe two or three taking the bridge. They would need at least four in the bar area. Johnny and Wulf would have a lot to deal with.

From somewhere above them, they heard a familiar voice begging through showers of spit.

"Don't hurt me!" shouted Squid. "I'm a wealthy man. I can pay my ransom. At least, I can if you give me time, I-"

There was the sound of a fist slapping into something wet, and Squid's cry of pain simultaneous with his assailant's yell of disgust.

"Down," said Johnny. "Don't let 'em sight on the torch!"

Johnny and Wulf ran for the stairwell, Johnny taking the upper flight, while the Viking headed down, keeping the torch on his feet while his eyes adjusted to the light. Johnny had no such problem. He reached the topmost stair and dropped to the floor. He saw Squid cowering on the ground while an indistinct gunman raised a pistol to his head. Squid shivered, praying that he wouldn't hear the sound of a gun being fired.

A gun went off, and he yelped in anguish. Another body could be heard slumping onto the floor.

"Holy sneck," whispered Squid, realising he was still in one piece.

The corridor lit up with a series of flashes and bangs. Squid threw himself flat on the ground and saw Johnny's head poking above the top of the stairwell in the lightning moments of visiblility.

"Johnny," he called.

"Stay down!" shouted Johnny, before any sound he might have made was drowned out by further gunshots. Squid didn't need telling twice and stayed close to the ground, his hand snaking over to his fallen would-be executioner, looking for the gun.

His hand closed on the muzzle of another pistol, hot to the touch. "Aha," said Squid, flailing his hand around until he found the butt. But as his hand closed around the grip, a booted foot stomped down on it.

Squid yelled in pain, looking up to see a shadowy figure towering above him. It raised its own gun to fire point-blank at Squid's head.

Squid's ink sac loosened completely, deluging his trousers with black liquid that smelt faintly of asparagus. His life flashed before his eyes, which didn't take long. He glimpsed only a parched childhood until his mutie mother learned to keep him wet at all times. Younger years were spent collecting frogs and other amphibians. There were a couple of failed scams as a teenager, leading to run-ins with the MKPD. And then he took the chance to be a bounty hunter, which he altogether regretted. Squid had done nothing. That annoying Johnny Alpha was right. All his achievements had been procured from those who did the real work. He was a thief who stole other people's criminals. He had only taken in one perp using his own initiative, and that had been his Uncle Fred who had come to him looking for a place to hide. And now his hand hurt, and he was on a snecky little cruise liner in the middle of nowhere, with someone about to put a bullet in his head. Squid's life sucked, and he knew it.

Johnny saw the hijacker move in on Squid. He had no time to take more careful aim. Instead, he just emptied his gun at the man standing on Squid's foot. The slugs tore into Johnny's target, causing him to jerk and sway. His gun fell to the floor, his foot stepped off Squid's hand, and he crumpled to the floor beside him.

Johnny's trigger finger clicked twice on an empty chamber. "Throw me the other gun!" he yelled at Squid.

Squid flailed in the half-light for the fallen weapon and skimmed it across the floor to Johnny. It skittered on the decking and came to rest at the top of the stairs. Suddenly, it was a lot quieter.

The echoes of the gunfire stopped ringing in Johnny's ears. All he could hear in the dark corridor was Squid complaining about his hand. All he could see was the hunched figure of the permanently-wet mutie surrounded by several bodies and a pool of warm liquid. It was too quiet for comfort. Johnny leaned back down the stairwell but heard nothing from the lower floors.

"Where's Blarg?" he yelled.

"He was downstairs!" shouted Squid. "Where's your Viking friend?"

"Same place," said Johnny quietly. Keeping on his belly, he crawled across the floor to Squid, taking care to avoid the slowly cooling puddle of body fluids next to him. Not all of it was Squid's. Johnny leaned on the corpse of a fallen hijacker and checked his gun. He flipped open the old-fashioned revolving chamber and saw just one bullet remaining. This wasn't looking good.

"Check them for ammo," he whispered, jerking his head at the fallen hijackers.

"You do it," whined Squid.

"Just snecking check!" hissed Johnny. He trained his gun on the entrance to the bar area and waited while Squid fumbled in the corpses' pockets.

"Nothing," whispered Squid.

"For sneck's sake," said Johnny.

"Amateurs," sniffed Squid.

Maybe, thought Johnny, maybe not. Probably a dozen men with a few rounds each on a ship full of feeble, drunken civilians. The gangs had had to resort to piracy. When you've lost your ship, why not steal someone else's?

Johnny looked around him. Not all the bodies were burly hijackers. He saw corpses with feathers, one wearing high heels, another with eyeglasses toppled from the bridge of its nose. One had a strangely shaped beard - the security guard they'd met on the Vaara leg. Innocent bystanders had been caught in the firefight or had suffered the consequences of resistance.

The lights came on all at once, causing Squid and Johnny to shield their eyes from the glare. There was a sudden feedback whine and then a voice crackled over the
China'
s speakers.

"Is this thing on?" it asked nobody in particular.

Johnny and Squid exchanged worried glances. The hijackers had the bridge.

"Show's over," it said. "Everyone stay calm and you will not be hurt."

Squid nursed his injured hand and looked at Johnny. He might not like him, but he would do as Johnny ordered. It was his best chance to stay alive. Through the portal at the end of the corridor, Johnny could see the lowermost tier of the bar area. It was deserted but for a couple of bodies on the floor. A bloodstained handprint could be seen on the white wall.

Johnny signalled to Squid to stay down and keep to the wall. He slunked down against the opposite bulkhead and inched closer to the portal.

"All areas of this ship are under our control," said the voice. Squid and Johnny looked back at their body-strewn corridor and smirked at each other.

"The company is insured. You will be ransomed. You will be returned to your homeworlds safely if you cooperate."

"That is der cow poo!" shouted a familiar voice somewhere near the microphone. The tannoy was abruptly shut off, but Johnny heard Wulf continue to yell from somewhere inside the bar.

"These people are body sharks," said Wulf. "They'll kill you all."

Wulf suddenly went quiet after an audible thump. Someone had punched him into silence. Johnny edged one side of his face around the corner of the portal and looked up at the bar area. The passengers were clustered in the mid-section far from the exit, with no access to the corridor to the bridge.

He saw Wulf, cut and bruised, captured in his failed attempt to secure the other cabin deck. He saw Isaiah in his wheelchair, and the Boy looking scared amid the faintly woozy drinkers. And walking among them he saw seven men with red handkerchiefs pulled over their faces - a futile gesture to hide their identities as everyone would have been filmed coming onboard. The scarves were most likely being used to help them identify each other. Johnny frowned. The hijackers were working towards a common goal, but they had not been sure who was on their side. Something wasn't right.

"We see you," said Wulf's captor. "We see you round the corner. Give it up."

Johnny crouched back behind the bulkhead. Squid looked at him expectantly.

"What do we do?" he whispered. "Can we stall them?"

"What?"

"Stall 'em." Squid looked at his watch. "We hit the solar system for real in, like, twenty minutes. The Terran navy will eat these guys alive."

Johnny shook his head. "They're criminals, Squid, but they're not stupid," he said. "The bridge will have been the first thing they took. We're not heading to Mars any more."

Squid swallowed uneasily and looked back towards the lounge.

"But they could be taking us anywhere," he said.

Johnny nodded. You had to hand it to them. Low on resources and outgunned, they'd found a new angle. Instead of using their own ship, they would just steal someone else's, get it to their hideout, and then to the double chop-shop. The mechanics would refurbish the vessel, and the body sharks would see to the passengers.

"Whoever you are down there, give yourself up!" shouted the voice. "Or are you so stupid you're gonna play hero?"

Squid tugged at Johnny's sleeve and Johnny slapped him away. He was trying to think and Sick Squid wasn't helping. He looked at the snecky little revolver he held. If all the hijackers were using these, their ammo was going to be limited as hell. The guys in the bar area could have more than a few dozen rounds between them and that was assuming that they hadn't fired at all.

His Westinghouse was locked in a safe somewhere closer to the bridge. It might as well have been in a drawer at home.

"Think, Johnny," urged Squid. "Make it quick."

Johnny tried to think like a criminal. The bridge had to have been taken just before they went into warp when it was too late to warn the
Mannerheim
, but just in time to alter the course. Anywhere ahead of here was in enemy hands.

"Mister Johnny," called a distant voice. "Can we comes out now?"

The Gronk and Nigel. They were still unharmed. Which meant that every criminal to the rear of their location was already dead. The numbers weren't so bad. Johnny was outnumbered maybe seven to one. Add Wulf and that halved the odds, except Wulf was now one of their captives. Johnny looked at Squid and wondered if he would make a difference or if Squid's Betelgeusian cohort would be of any help. It could be worse.

Johnny snapped open the ceramic pistol just to be sure. All six chambers were empty. He grabbed the spare on the floor - empty. Squid looked at him nervously, holding up his own stolen gun which was also empty.

"Hold your positions, you lot," he yelled back down the corridor at Nigel.