Cassandra Kresnov: Breakaway Part 14

"Because you don't f.u.c.king tell me anything. Who are these other people and why didn't you tell me about them before?"

"Sandy a they're just more contacts of Sal Va's, I didn't think it'd be that important a"

"Jesus Christ, An, when you put me into a firefight, you tell me everything! When it comes to survival I'm not negotiable, you got me?" A brief, wary nod. Not frightened, she doubted she could ever bluff him into thinking she might actually hurt him. Just wary. And about b.l.o.o.d.y time, too. "Now where are these people, and how can we get there?"

Again the uplink connected to hers, she accessed and the picture drew itself clearly across her internal schematic, two rooms at differing points of the underground complex.

"You take the north one," Ari suggested, unperturbed by the forearm pressure that pinned him to the wall. "I'll get the other a these GIs, could they access your com-links?"

League software, Dark Star formalities a she made a face. "It's possible." Released him with a dark, warning look. Ari tugged his shirt back into place as if nothing had happened. "We'll keep it silent a I'll meet you at yours, I move faster. An, if you get in their way, surrender-they'll know we're here now, they'll know it's you, and they're not going to want to kill CSA operatives. You can't shoot your way out, it's just not possible. Agreed?"

His eyes flashed with an unexpected, crooked smile. "I'm learning." And he left at a jog, giving her a flamboyant whack on the backside as he pa.s.sed. Sandy took a brief moment to shake her head in disbelief before running after him.

Their paths diverged at the first cross-corridor, his headed left while she sprang lightly on ahead, vision-scanning for any signs of telltale movement or recent heat-imprints. The schematic unfolded before her-the new site Ari had a.s.signed her was over on the north side of the warren a surprising in its isolation, no nearby escape routes. Possibly a good thing, given that routes out were also routes in.

She duck-scanned at the next T-junction, finding only another empty length of dingy corridor a sounds echoed, soft footsteps and voices from several hallways down, doubtless some of the locals had awoken to the commotion and braved the outside. She resolved to factor unarmed civilians into her firing equations, pushed off left and kept running. Another right-wide doorways in the scarred ferrocrete on her left, open s.p.a.ce littered with empty crates and boxes-ware house s.p.a.ce she guessed, ignoring the darting run of a long-bodied rodent across the corridor before her. The air smelt stale, more fluoros were out, plunging sections of echoing hallway into shadow. Another cross-corridor ahead, the air smelling different as the ventilation currents changed, and a big, ragged hole in the left wall dripped leaking water and condensation from cracks somewhere higher in the structure a She stopped, her back to the right-side wall at the T-junction. Something wasn't right. Her target apartment was just several more corners away through the increasingly dank and crumbling corridors. She visualised it on her schematic, a broad view showing her present relation to the tower retail complex above, and the flanking streets and entry points, ventilation and com-grids a she was out from under the overhead complex now, a side street was several storeys directly overhead. Dirt between here and the surface, which explained the dampbeing built on a frequently rain-soaked river delta, Ta.n.u.sha was wet. The soil gathered a lot of moisture and care was taken in building plans to avoid too much underground construction as it would displace the sponge-like qualities and cause the rivers to overflow and flood.

She reopened several adjoining links in a darting flash of electronic intent, connected into adjoining systems and saw that Ari's target apartment was directly under the main overhead tower complex, and barely ten metres from an elevator shaft. The elevator shaft had a security override to prevent it from descending down this far, and the shaft itself registered as blocked-all this lower part was "unofficial infrastructure," doubtless the owners of the overhead complex didn't advertise the nature of the residencies that existed below. She vision flashed across the registrar notice of tenant companies, scrolling rapidly until she hit a Tetsu Incorporated, Administration and Marketing Division.

She recalled the raid she and SWAT Four had led on Tetsu nearly a month previous, in the midst of the FIA-infiltration crisis that unfolded following the Parliament Ma.s.sacre and the attempt upon President Neiland's life. Up to their necks in it, Tetsu had been. Federal Intelligence Agency plants in middle management feeding illegal biotech data to equally illegal FIA anti-GI researchers. And separate League plants accepting the illegal knowledge that the League were willingly feeding them in an attempt to undermine the biotech restriction regime that remained strenuously enforced throughout the entire Federation. Ari had known the League delegation was newly arrived in town, GIs and all. He hadn't been surprised to find those GIs apparently involved in this present mess. And he'd sent her off in this direction, while he himself headed toward the most obvious entry point for a League infiltration-any League team would be likely still to possess Tetsu access codes, and possibly still have contacts inside, and could come down on the tower landing pads a Dammit, An, was her first and immediate thought, what don't you want me to find out?

She ran, fast, internal schematic showing her the quickest shortcut to reach Ari's intended destination, trusting that superior reflexes alone should be adequate to deal with any non-GI threat between here and there. Empty corridors echoed, and she kept her footsteps light and springy, bouncing on her toes with the reflex of long operational practice.

Found the apartment quickly enough-no security barrier this time, the door had been smashed open, contents strewn about the inside, but thankfully no more bodies. She darted back out and on down the adjoining corridor, the open elevator shaft upon her left, doors also forced wide, residual heat from footprints fading quickly on the scuffed ferrocrete outside. She glanced cautiously inside and upwards, weapon ready a the shaft zoomed high and empty but for the central cables. There was no physical obstruction blocking the way, whatever the schematic said-a false reading then, placed there to confuse intruders. Probably certain persons who knew the codes simply used the elevator to ride in and out of the warren.

Another hack-and-scan on the schematic showed that an adjoining elevator further up-one that did not descend down this far-was already on call from the ground floor a and the ground floor door to this shaft, which she could see just two levels above her present position, had been hacked. An, she guessed. On his way up to the Tetsu level. She shouldered the rifle strap, took a moment to tense the leg muscles in correct proportions, and leapt a a calculated release of energy that shot her two levels up the elevator shaft a and grasped the central cable at the apex with a steely grip. Had barely begun an override and hack of the opposing elevator door when one of the remote seeker functions she had implanted on the local network abruptly activated another portion of internal schematic. Codes and visual locations flashed across her vision, and she immediately recognised militarygrade encryption. Not just military. League. Dark Star.

She threw out a trace seeker immediately. A brief pause as it replicated itself across a series of regional network sources a At that moment the elevator cable to which she clung descended abruptly with an activating whine. She switched fast to the opposite cable and caught a ride up, twisted a leg to get some awkward leverage and jumped off as she pa.s.sed the second floor door. Caught and balanced precariously on the narrow ledge, hacking a second path to this elevator door a building security intervened this time, wise now to old tricks a From above her a whistling presence was coming down fast. She didn't need a glance to know how swiftly the car was approaching, and there wasn't enough s.p.a.ce for her and it. Hit the door system with her least subtle attack barrier and the electronics simply fried. She smacked an elbow into one door-edge to make a dent, got her fingers into the resultant gap and pulled a with a grating crunch of protesting mechanisms the doors opened. Into an open hallway on the tower's lower levels, people in suits pa.s.sing-abrupt shock of alterna tive locations, the surroundings suddenly bright and gleamingly corporate. She unshouldered the rifle and tossed it back into the elevator shaft, then set off running with a loose, casual gait a building security flared red alarm across her internal schematic, registering the infiltration in the elevator shaft. Surely security guards would be on their way.

And then the trace seeker came back to her with what it figured was a reasonable fix on a mobile source on the main road outside the building, moving away at foot speed toward the river a Security rounded the corner up ahead, a pair of blue suits with tasers. Sandy produced her badge from a back pocket as she ran, paused long enough for one of them to scan-verify the seal (even security squibs had that basic enhancement in Ta.n.u.sha), and ignored the following questions, dodging past several more suits as the hallway curved left. The right wall was all transparent, overlooking the road. Gla.s.s doors opened onto an open-air cafe overlooking the street below a she darted through, skipping quickly between tables and startled diners toward the far right corner of the balcony. Grasped the railings and looked out toward the river.

A four-lane road, traffic banked at the lights of an intersection. Crowded sidewalks, pedestrians walking in the bright sunshine a a typically busy downtown Zaiko scene. Another block beyond, the street ended in greenery and a walkway skirting the broad, blue expanse of the river. She overlaid the location her seeker trace had shown on the internal schematic a a brief disorientation of distorted vision, graphical lines matching up reference points and measuring distances a then came clear, a single, coloured spot flashing clearly upon the right-hand sidewalk amid the pa.s.sing crowds. Another moment's calculation, adjusting for movement at time of detection, speed and time elapsed a the circle vanished and reappeared further on toward the river, moving at walking speed. She frowned, visionzooming upon the people within the circle, knowing all too well it was an imprecise guess, her target could have changed directions, crossed the street, stopped or started running a but there, in the middle of the visually imposed circle, was a man with a heavy jacket, zippers on the shoulders and pocketed cargo pants. Like her own. Black skin, dark sungla.s.ses, hands in pockets and apparently unworried by the heat on this sunny Ta.n.u.shan day. c.o.c.ky b.a.s.t.a.r.d. If she'd picked that last transmission, no doubt others would have too. Certain mafia types, especially, having access to League codes that League operatives had been stupid enough to lend them a "Excuse me, ma'am," came a waiter's voice at her elbow, no doubt concerned at the consternation of the other patrons at this rude arrival, "can I help you with something?"

"How *bout a rope?" Sandy asked. And hurdled the railing before the waiter could consider what the h.e.l.l she was talking about. Yells of desperate alarm from behind as she fell a The broad transparent awning covering the tower's entrance spread directly below at a fortyfive degree downslope. She hit it feet-and-backside first, slid to the rim and leapt off with an extra shove, aiming for an empty s.p.a.ce of sidewalk she'd spotted on the way down, hit, rolled with a hand to her side to keep the pistol in place-and set off running as pedestrians around leapt or stopped in double-take startlement at this woman who fell from the sky and into their midst.

She ran comfortably fast, weaving between pedestrians and certain their numbers would block her from view at this distance a Ahead the lights on the crossstreet were changing and she put on an extra burst of speed, edging onto the road to avoid collisions and leaping onto the far pavement just as the lights changed a her uplinks registered the traffic-net's disapproval, her image caught on visual and no doubt a.n.a.lysed for fines and warnings at Traffic Central, but no big deal, the CSA would pay for it.

She caught a glimpse of the man up ahead as he neared the crossstreet before the riverside park, strolling apparently unawares a A groundcar leapt the gra.s.s-verged curb opposite with a squeal of tyres, men leaping out. Her target vanished with explosive speed into the doorway of the corner building, the five men from the groundcar pouring after him, obviously armed beneath their expensive jackets. She was already sprinting, edging once more onto the road to gain a clear path, uplinks registering a mess of active scans, attack barriers and encoded IDs. Nothing official, nothing CSA, mostly very illegal. She reckoned she'd just found the Ta.n.u.shan mafia in person, this time without their violent and well armed mercenaries. And the man they were after was a d.a.m.n fool for transmitting that signal from the street a which could easily mean he was an amateur. Or new in town.

Bashed through the wooden doorway, through the entrance foyer and found two employees sprawled unconscious upon a broad, open nightclub floor a uplinks informed her with a rush of three-dimensional data that the building was five storeys of "entertainment complex," nightclub, VR gaming, backroom gambling and backroom s.e.x, all equally expensive a and now the local network barriers were making a total mess of her attempts to lock onto local sources.

"CSA!" she yelled at the three startled-looking employees working on the dance floor lighting and sound system in a sea of a.s.sorted cables and switches. "Which way'd they go?" A stunned silence, shattered by three tough, tattooed gentlemen who rushed from a side doorway and blocked her path a "You get!" one yelled. "This private property! CSA not allowed, you get!" Very menacingly. She registered the sprawl of tattoos across thick-muscled arms, connected that with the ma.s.s of encrypted barriers clogging the network premises, and realised to her extreme displeasure that this too was a GGs establishment. And these guys looked like Yakuza, an ancient phenomenon she'd heard of but never thought to encounter directly a b.l.o.o.d.y Ta.n.u.shan antiquities, how many of these d.a.m.n gangs were there, anyway?

Gunfire erupted from back rooms above, heads snapped around and she moved-one grabbed at her and she hit him in the stomach. Snapkicked the second across the shoulder and threw the third halfway across the dance floor, then raced through the side door and up the next stairway before the three groaning bodies had barely hit the floor.

Got a sudden connection as she reached the second floor and ripped the pistol from her shoulder holster, her systems breaking through the infiltrated chaos on the networks and the complexity hit her in a rush a her floor, her level, her present location and the layout around her. Other people's locations, too, and the obscuring ma.s.s of static where some new infiltrator was attempting to cover his location and systems a More gunfire ahead. Corridor walls and doorways fled past her as she took the corners bouncing off the suavely deep-green and decoration-trimmed walls, and once off a staff member. She could hear only too well that some of that fire was rapid-auto, and from the local men's positions on the links, she guessed it wasn't them. Whoever it was, they were coming up a stairwell down the next corridor a it loomed ahead, and she slid feet-first along the shiny surface a saw the dark figure appearing at the top of the stairwell and yelled, "CSA!," smacking the side of the corridor with her feet and bracing.

Covering gunfire erupted as the gunman ducked back, Sandy ignoring the ill-aimed fire that smacked the walls and ceiling about. Unloaded a rapid ten shots into the stairwell banisters and railings, knowing she hit nothing even as the wood splintered and kicked fragments, but hoping to scare him back down those stairs a and remembering vaguely that she wasn't supposed to kill him anyway, even if he shot at her.

Something dark lobbed over the stairwell as she lay braced on one side a she tensed a leg and kicked off in barely a split second, hurling herself back down the corridor into a rolling ball, uncoiling once more for a second spring with that momentum as the grenade exploded behind her with a thump that rattled the walls and sent plaster and wood fragments showering about her. She knew the footsteps would be coming even before she heard them, rolled quickly to a crouch by the wall in barely enough time for a black figure to dash blindingly fast by the corridor mouth a she snapped fire, onehanded reflex, knowing even then that she'd scored multiple hits. The lack of impact holes in the far wall confirmed it. Scampered forward through the billowing dust of the explosion, pressed her back to the left wall and leaned right a even without seeing, she knew there was no body lying there, having heard the footsteps continue onward at frantic pace. Body armour, perhaps a but she'd aimed for the legs.

d.a.m.n he was fast. And well armed. It gave her a bad, bad feeling.

Yells and footsteps from back down the stairwell. Pursuers climbing a she set off in fast pursuit herself, not wanting regular security to try tackling this particular gunman, even if they were only mafia. She skidded to a halt at the next corridor, snapped a fast look around a "Freeze!" yelled a voice from back at the stairwell, obscured through the drifting dust.

"I'm CSA!" she yelled back. "Stay back and I'll get him!"

"CSA, my f.u.c.kin' a.r.s.e!" came the reply, and Sandy spun about the corner in time to avoid a volley of shots that splintered the plastered walls. b.u.g.g.e.red, she thought calmly, if she was going to tolerate that c.r.a.p behind her a she had enough to worry about in front.

She snapped a quick look around the corner, pistol out left-handed and fired two fast shots into the murky dust a multiple screams and yells of "my f.u.c.kin' arm!," and "my leg, my leg!," and she moved off at speed, content that pursuit would now pause for a long moment.

The gunman was not hard to follow, even if her uplinks into the local establishment security failed to grasp the location a the lingering effects of whatever virus this guy was using to cover himself, she thought, sliding up against a doorway that should have been locked but instead hung partly off its hinges, bashed open with great force. A quick scan of the layout showed the most likely escape, and she sprinted beyond the doorway, ducked through a bathroom to the frightened yells of several sheltering in the toilet stalls, crashed footfirst through the far door, bounced hard right off the wall, skidded for acceleration, smacked off the right wall to fly sideways into the next upward stairwell, leapt four metres vertically onto the adjoining flight to save time, sprang through that doorway, shoved off hard left and leapt for a flying kick at the end doorway. It exploded off its hinges, as she flew footfirst and dropping, pistol out and searching a The blow hit her unexpectedly in mid-air from the side, and she snapped a right fist back into hard contact, losing balance to thump the ground shoulder-first and tumbled before coming back fast to her feet.

A moment's fast register, time-lapsed-motion and sound like treacle, blurred and slow. A storeroom. Boxes and junk surrounding. A man waiting for her by the doorway. She'd lost her weapon. He'd been thumped in the head, hard. He was still alive. Which meant he was a GI. Like she'd thought. Get him before he recovers.

Her tackle smashed him over backward, locking his gun arm and fighting for leverage even as they somersaulted, him re-gripping to counter, abandoning the gun, which clattered free as they ceased rolling a and suddenly he found a hold, twisted and kicked with force that flung her hard into the nearby wall-her grip on his jacket held and spun him hard about to a crouch. Sandy came off the wall and spun for a full-power kick that smashed him flying eight metres sideways through the air, hammering awkwardly off the wall with force enough to fracture stylish brickwork, and fell out of sight behind some boxes.

She grabbed up his fallen automatic a and saw it was a palmreader, not operable without a personalised operator's signature. Got a good grip and broke it with a brief burst of applied power, a shriek and crack as the handle bent, looking about for her own weapon, full heat scan a no reds from hot muzzles, only blues, and the reddish tinge of recent footsteps, and the cracked imprint where the other GI had hit the walla "Looking for this?" came a voice from behind those boxes. The man was standing, if a little awkwardly, holding her pistol in his hand. Grinned at her as she stared, the muzzle centred with effortless precision upon the centre of her chest. CSA weapons were not palmreaders, securitied only by uplink verification, which was of course vulnerable to rearrangement with the kinds of interface systems a GI had available. Now, staring down the barrel of her own pistol, she wondered why that should be so.

The GI had the appearance of an African man. Whatever that meant, for a GI. Shorter than average, as usual. Not especially muscular or broad, also as usual. Handsome, strong, jet-black features, military-inspired jacket and pants, with many pockets. He stepped around the boxes, and stood before her, not four metres distant. Limping slightly. So she had hit him a she eyed several small holes in his pant legs, about the thighs. Sweet f.u.c.k-all good it'd do against a GI, with that little civilian pea-shooter. Especially in the thighs. Best to go for a knee or an elbow a you could always get lucky. Or the throat or an eye, for a half-chance killshot. Headshots with low-calibre weapons were just an annoyance.

"Ca.s.sandra Kresnov, I presume," the GI said. Smiling broadly, in a very handsome way. More than amused. Like he was genuinely pleased to see her.

"Who the f.u.c.k are you?" she asked, in no mood for pleasantries with someone pointing a gun at her. Past the deadly combat calm, she suffered a cold tingle up the spine. A GI, one who knew her name. It narrowed the possibilities alarmingly. The man shook his head in amazement.

"I have heard so much about you." The cold tingle got worse. He seemed very pleased, for someone she'd just put bullets into and smashed full-force into a wall. "This is amazing. I had expected we would meet, but not so soon. Fate, perhaps."

On the net, there was commotion, people moving and shouting. New arrivals-police and incoming CSA. Somewhere downstairs, a directing shout.

"Who are you?"

He sighed. "Patience. I must go. Don't look for terrorists, Ca.s.sandra, they aren't important. The game is elsewhere." Footsteps from somewhere down the corridors. He backed away, headed for the rear window across the storeroom, which was she could see on her schematic within leaping distance of the rear laneway, and escape-for a GI. Sandy regathered herself a as soon as he was out that window, she was going after him, gun or no gun. From the last look he gave her, she realised with dismay that he knew it.

"I apologise," he said-and shot her twice in the stomach.

The blows kicked her backward, doubling over with painful force a the window shattered, the GI tossed the pistol away, sprang onto the windowsill and leapt into empty s.p.a.ce. Several long seconds later, a light thump, then nothing. Sandy made to move for her weapon a and realised that it b.l.o.o.d.y hurt. Gasping, she fell to one knee, holding her middle. b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Utter, f.u.c.king b.a.s.t.a.r.d. A downward glance showed two small holes in her shirt, and a light, creeping red wetness. Her stomach muscles refused to untense, cramped tight and painful. The cramp spread into her back, and down through her hips and thighs a and she recalled certain long ago lessons in GI anatomy, and how stomach muscles connected into nearly everything else, and which loosening exercises needed to be employed to prevent various strains and immobilities a "Oh s.h.i.t," she muttered to empty air as the pain got worse, "I'm going to get you, you little p.r.i.c.k. I'm really going to get you a More voices, getting closer, and she staggered back to her feet, desperately ignoring the pain as she staggered toward her pistol, lying on the floor amid stacks of crates and boxes. He evidently knew something about the CSA, too, in abandoning the weapon-no physical ID locks, but they did come with inbuilt trackers that could only be activated by an uplink signal from the wearer or their partner, and thank G.o.d for the latter provision in light of the SIB a She squatted, wincing in pain, picked up the pistol, checked and safetied it by reflex, in case the GI had subtly broken or bent some important mechanism. Discovered otherwise, everything appeared to work. Every movement hurt. Stabs of pain shot through her stomach a combat reflex was wearing off, and when that happened, the pain came back.

"CSA!" she yelled, as footsteps rushed the doorway, training her weapon on the opening. The footsteps stopped prudently short, perhaps recalling the last time she'd announced those three letters. "If I see any weapons, I'll shoot first this time!"

"This is our f.u.c.king premises, you b.i.t.c.h!" came the harsh reply. "Private property. Do you snake morons even know what that means?" Snake a derogatory street slang for CSA, she remembered. It was the first time she'd heard it directed at herself.

"Civil emergency!" she retorted, loudly enough to carry well beyond the immediate corridor. "Do you know what that means? It means you point a gun at me, I'll blow your f.u.c.king head off!"

Rushdial a click-"Ari, I got a s t a n d - o f f here, I h o p e you've been f o l - l o w i n g what's going on a "

"How d'we know you're even CSA? Where'd the guy go, huh? How d'we know your e-ID's not fake? You could be working with him!"

"Ten seconds, Sandy, I'm nearly there." He sounded out of breathimpossible he hadn't realised he'd gone the wrong way, if the GGs had detected that transmission burst, then surely An had. He'd probably reversed the elevator and come straight back down on override express.

On the surrounding net, police and CSA active barriers probed the electronic premises, erecting security barriers. Closing transmissions told of approaching vehicles, ground and airborne. Chatter asked for identification, situation a An's codes, then, responding calmly, covering for her a Pause from the corridor. Sounds echoed on full hearing enhancement, heavy breathing, feet shuffling, the electronic code of interlinked transmission and soft, m.u.f.fled conversation a the guys who'd leapt from the car were either from this particular gang, she realised, or from another gang with ties to this Yakuza bunch. She knew such ties existed, gangs here were about profit more than anything, mutual beneficial business relationships were the norm. They'd been cruising, seen their target fortuitously strolling toward friendly premises, and sprung an improvised trap to drive him inside. Bad move, as it turned out. Probably they hadn't known precisely what he was. They should have figured, considering his League codes a and she remembered Ari saying the GGs weren't known for their criminal genius a "Sandy, can you get out the rear window?"

"Yes." A faint stab of midriff pain through the combat calm. "Why?"

"SIB on the way, among others, if we leave now we can claim hot pursuit a he did go out the rear window, didn't he?"

"Yes." Ari had very good links indeed if he could track that. "I'll meet you out back. What about these guys?"

"I think I just convinced them. This place is as good as surrounded, they're not going anywhere. "

Zaiko, the next thought occurred to her. Hotbed of activity. Underground and mafia groups in close proximity. A techno haven. No doubt such proximity had been useful in the past, all such underground activity thrived on access to illegal technologies-the GGs for profit, Ari's underground friends for reasons of ideology and lifestyle. Now relations between the two groups seemed a case of familiarity breeding contempt. Another thing Ari hadn't precisely laid out for her.

She walked backward to the window, pistol not wavering from the doorway. Eased herself up onto the ledge, onehanded. Stomach mus-Iles refused to cooperate, shot uncontrollable pain and cramp through her back and legs. She hissed, softly, grabbed the overhead sill with her free hand, pistol still levelled, and glanced under her arm and down. A short s.p.a.ce of backyard/garden, high-walled and green. A driving lane beyond that, with a heavy-locked gate for people access. Five storeys, straight down. s.h.i.t. This was going to hurt. The garden gra.s.s looked a little softer, so she got her feet on the ledge beneath her, and jumped gently outward.

Fell, turning as she went, extending her legs and tensing for impact. Her body not cooperating-that didn't feel right. The drop lasted a long time.

The impact smashed her knees up into her chest, which wasn't supposed to happen, the stunning shock ripped right through her body. Curled up on her knees, she fell slowly onto her side, gasping, in shock more than pain.

"Sandy!" Footsteps running from nearby, and a hand grabbed her arm a dangerous, in her present state, but she withheld a reflex shove with effort. "Jesus, are you a d.a.m.n, you're shot. How a "I'm okay." Hoa.r.s.ely, struggling upright with his a.s.sistance. Her legs nearly failed to cooperate, she felt weak and trembling all over. Pressed her free hand to her stomach a there wasn't much in the way of capillaries between the hard stomach muscle and surface dermal layer, and GIs required very little blood compared to humans, but losing large quant.i.ties was still not a good idea. The shirt felt very wet beneath her hand, and she knew the jump hadn't helped. "Where's the car?"

"It's coming, I called it as soon as I got that transmission a" Leading her by the arm, pausing briefly as his linkup codes overrode the rear gate, and swung it open. "a what happened? Lucky shot?"

"No." An, it seemed, had a very high opinion of her martial capabilities. She wondered vaguely if he were disappointed. "GI." Out into the laneway-high-walled to the sides and a long walk to either exit. An leaned her against the side wall, his own hand pressed over her own. She breathed deeply, pain returning as the combat reflex diminished, trying to loosen her diaphragm as breathing became awkward. "Smart one. d.a.m.n smart."

"How smart?" Thoughts racing at lightning speed through his dark eyes, a thick eyebrow furrowing. "Better than a than what, a 35?"

"Ari, I have no idea." Breathlessly, half doubled over, backside to the wall, his hand steadying on her shoulder. "But he sure wasn't any reg. I think that whole job downstairs wasn't a five person team at all, I think it was just him." Remembering the speed, the dark shape flying down the corridor. Not as good as her, that was sure. But good enough.

"d.a.m.n League special delivery," Ari muttered, eyes even more intent. Thinking fast. That wasn't good. But she was too dazed to probe further. Sirens from the street out front, local cops first on the scene. "How bad is it?" Attention switching abruptly back to her, looking very concerned. "I mean, it didn't penetrate, did it?"

"No. Muscles stop anything low-calibre. But it beats the s.h.i.t out of them." She tried straightening, and found that she could, barely. "I'm okay. Didn't realise those d.a.m.n CSA toys packed such a punch. He'll be limping too, at least."

"You hit him?"

"Yeah, about three times in the thighs. Won't bother him so much, thigh muscles are isolated."

An stared. "Hang on a if he's a GI a" gesticulating with one puzzled hand, "a and he got enough time to hit you twice in the stomach a he wasn't trying to kill you?"

"No."

"Then what a ?" He was interrupted by a low, sleek vehicle that turned into the far end of the laneway, accelerating to zoom quickly toward them-police cruiser, blue with flashing lights. And she caught a sense of Ari's brief burst-transmission in that direction.

"Tell you later," she said, straightening a bit more to avoid unwanted questions from the police, zipping her jacket to hide the blood. The police car pulled up quickly beside them, two blue-uniformed officers climbing quickly out.

"You two all right?" one asked.

"Fine," said An, "you better get in there, we've got a lead on the guy that got away, we're going after him."

"You need backup?"

"No. Careful with those fools in there. They were expecting guests, they're armed but they seem willing to reason with emergency legislation a but be f.u.c.king careful, and don't put your guns away for anything. Got it?"

"Got it." A can-do nod from both police as another two cruisers appeared up the end of the lane, closing fast. Then Ari's car, driving on auto.

"Come on." With a surrept.i.tious hand on Sandy's shoulder, Ari led the way past the two police cars as they pulled up behind the first, then his own car pulled up, doors opening, and they climbed inside. Ari did a fast uplink to the navcomp and the car backed out the way it had come. Sandy half-collapsed in the chair, pressing hard with her hand and wincing in acute discomfort.

"What's up with those guys, anyway?" she asked, to deflect further questions as he glanced worriedly across at her.

"The thugs?"

"Yeah." With a hiss, shifting position carefully.

"Umm a" He shrugged. "a just crims. Like crims anywhere, I suppose."

"They're allowed to carry guns around like that?" Incredulously. "Why don't you arrest them? I thought firearm possession was mostly illegal?"

The car reached the end of the lane and pulled out into a gap in the traffic, several more police cruisers waiting for them at the end, lights flashing. And accelerated away. Ari shrugged again.

"They work there. You'll never find weapons there normally, they always get tipoffs and hide them, and there's too much red tape in getting search warrants. Law gets sick of trying eventually and tries to bust them for something else." d.a.m.n infotech society, Sandy thought sourly. Everyone seemed to know what everyone else was doing. "Besides, they have their uses, we overlook the odd bit of black mar-keteering in exchange for information on the big boys or bad crims. We have inside sources, keep the small stuff contained and nail the big stuff to the wall. Priorities, you know."

Sandy gave him a dubious sideways glance.

"That works?"

An glanced back. "You're really going to have to get more precise with this vague terminology, Sandy a I mean, um, works, for example, has multiple possible translations available within the, um, broader law enforcement lexicon." Sandy just gazed at him, unblinkingly. Ari coughed. "We keep the small stuff contained, generally, and nail the big stuff. Generally."

"I'm pleased to hear that. Generally." The car paused at a traffic light. It seemed a pointless inconvenience, in the circ.u.mstances. She wished Ari had an aircar.

"So what do you make of this GI?" A little tentatively, Sandy thought.

"The p.r.i.c.k shot me." She was not, she felt, in the right mood to discuss it presently. "I'm not happy about it."

An blinked. "Well, logically, I'd imagine that might follow. What'd he look like?"

"Black. Where are we going?"

"Oh, um, I figured we didn't want a hospital since the SIB might track that a and they probably couldn't help much, anyway a so I thought a friend's place, just to patch you up. So a African-black? Or Indian-black?"

"African a f.u.c.king Norwegian-black, I don't know. Which friend's place?"

"You wouldn't recognise the name."

Jesus. She was losing her temper now. That rarely happened. Being shot with her own weapon infuriated her. The way it had happened doubly infuriated her. The fools with their guns who hadn't believed she was CSA infuriated her. The fact that there were GIs in Ta.n.u.sha again, breaking into places and stealing their databases a oh, that was it, she could feel the anger surging, at that single thought.

"f.u.c.king GIs," she muttered into An's continuing silence, as the lights went green and the car accelerated once more. "I hate f.u.c.king GIs."

An gave her another, tentative sideways look. "Surely you don't mean that?"

Sandy stared out the windows, and fumed. Silence was her only answer.