Synaptic Manhunt (14 page)

He stepped off the kerb and dodged the ground traffic until he reached the central island. There he walked slowly towards the fountain. He stopped at its rim and stared down into the water. A.A. Catto had eluded him. He couldn’t afford just to roam Litz and hope for another lead. That would undoubtedly give her time to leave the city altogether. There was even a chance that she had done that already. His best action might be to contact Bannion, to see if he had any information on her whereabouts. His other alternative might be to get hold of the Minstrel Boy and find out if he had any more contacts that could be valuable.

He let his eyes follow the patterns of ripples. He made his brain become calm and analytical. He forced it to calculate the possibilities that might stem from any single action. He was completing the third level when a voice beside him interrupted the process.

‘Got a drink, buddy?’

Jeb Stuart Ho was jerked into the material world.

‘I’m sorry. I failed to hear you.’

A ragged, filthy drunk stood in front of him, swaying slightly and scratching his leg. He looked up at Jeb Stuart Ho and made an implausible attempt at a winning smile. He also raised his voice a little.

‘I said, got a drink, buddy?’

Jeb Stuart Ho smiled compassionately at him, and stretched his hand out to the water.

‘Drink of the fountain, my friend. There is plenty here for everyone.’

The drunk spat in disgust.

‘Fucking wisearse.’

He staggered away, muttering indignantly. Jeb Stuart Ho watched him sadly. It seemed as though Litz was a place where logic hardly functioned. He wondered if it was a fault in the city’s stability generators. He decided that his best immediate course of action should be to call Bannion. He looked around for a com-booth. There was one a little way on from Fidel’s Burgers in the foyer of an Obscenery. There seemed to be a lull in the traffic. His attention was attracted by a black, low-slung ground car that screamed into the square, dodging other vehicles with almost suicidal high-speed swerves. It made a half circuit of the square, drifting on the corners, and then screeched to a halt in front of Fidel’s Burgers. It only paused for a moment, and then gunned away again. Jeb Stuart Ho was just wondering if it was some kind of local pastime, when the interior of Fidel’s was taken out by an impact bomb.

The blast lifted Jeb Stuart Ho clean off his feet, and blew him some metres across the square. When he had picked himself up and recovered from the shock, there were LDC patrol cars arriving, ploughing through the rubble that now littered the square in front of what had recently been a brightly lit burger joint. A Correction Department airship floated overhead, directing its searchlights down at the wrecked building. A pair of ornithopters fluttered close to the mass of its cigar-shaped gas bag. From inside the ruins, Jeb Stuart Ho could hear muffled screaming.

A thought struck Jeb Stuart Ho with almost physical force. One of the strongest possible reasons for someone bombing the burger joint was the fact that he might have been there. If he hadn’t abandoned the meal he would have still been sitting inside. It was an obvious move on the part of A.A. Catto to hire warriors, more likely brigands of some kind, to kill him before he killed her. It was a very logical action. He felt a tingle run through his muscles. It was now a battle, something which he could deal with.

A throng of sightseers were already pressing towards the ruins of Fidel’s. They milled about and hampered the movements of the LDC. A fire truck, a medic unit and more patrol cars arrived. The disaster area was now packed with people, and luridly illuminated by the garish colours of the flashing warning lights. Jeb Stuart Ho pushed himself to the centre of the crowd to see if he could pick up any clue to the identity of the attackers. Even the patrolmen seemed to move out of the way of the tall, sinister, black-clad figure.

At the far side of the crowd, Jeb Stuart Ho spotted Bannion. He was still dressed in his rumpled brown suit. He appeared to be directing operations. He waved and gesticulated to the squad. Bodies were being carried out of the wreckage on stretchers. Jeb Stuart Ho made his way across to where Bannion stood.

‘Chief-Agent Bannion.’

Bannion turned. When he saw Ho he scowled and took the cigar from between his teeth.

‘What the hell are you doing here? Why don’t you fuck off? I’ve got enough troubles without you showing up.’

Jeb Stuart Ho took a deep breath.

‘I fear I may have inadvertently been responsible for this unfortunate occurrence.’

Bannion looked as though he was going to explode. He reached inside his coat and pulled out a snub-nosed .70 correction special. He waved it under Jeb Stuart Ho’s nose.

‘I’ve a good mind to kill you right now! Accidentally!’

He almost spat out the last word. Jeb Stuart Ho stood very still, staring impassively at the gun. Its short barrel was almost as wide as it was long. At last the chief-agent managed to control himself. His words were cold and deadly.

‘Are you trying to tell me that you blew up Fidel’s burger joint?’

Jeb Stuart Ho quickly shook his head.

‘I didn’t cause the explosion. That would have been neither logical nor ethical. I think I may well have been the intended victim.’

‘You were in the place?’

‘Minutes before the explosion. I left quickly because the food was so bad.’

Bannion’s lip curled.

‘That figures. Go on.’

‘It is my deduction that whoever drove up and threw the bomb was hired by A.A. Catto to kill me.’

‘Before you get to her?’

‘That’s correct. I think there will be other attempts.’

Bannion dropped his cigar and ground it out with his heel.

‘You really are a prize, aren’t you, brother? First you cause the death of one of my officers and now you seem to have started a mini-war. I knew I should never have let you go. I should have shot you when you were first brought in.’

Jeb Stuart Ho attempted to be totally reasonable.

‘Perhaps you should attempt to cooperate with me.’

Bannion began to turn red again.

‘Cooperate! With you!’

‘The sooner I find A.A. Catto, the sooner I’m out of your city.’

Bannion’s face tightened.

‘Listen, sunshine. If I knew where the girl was, you’d be the last person I’d tell. I hope her boys get you real soon. Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind and blow you apart.’

‘I …’

Bannion began waving the pistol again.

‘Get!’

Jeb Stuart Ho took a last look at the mess of broken glass, twisted neon and shattered concrete. As he walked away, the vid crews began arriving. They came in all sizes, from single hand-held operators with scanners and backpacs to big, full-size mobiles that rode on their own cushion of air. Each company’s crew vied with the others to get the tightest close-ups of death and mutilation. One portable operative was kneeling beside an arm that had been ripped off and flung out into the road. At close range he panned along it, recording every pore and every fleck of blood in loving 3D colour. Jeb Stuart Ho shuddered and walked away.

He kept on walking until he had covered the length of five blocks. The city of Litz was beginning to produce a taste in his mouth that was far worse than the Vegie-Wonder. He passed an alley that ran up the side of a Sex-O-Mat and something called Ye Olde Gunne Shoppe. A furtive movement made him pause. Although it was only half seen, there was something about it that triggered a subconscious response. Without thinking, he threw himself flat on the sidewalk. At the same instant there was the flash and explosion of a riot gun. Jeb Stuart Ho heard the scream of the cloud of deadly metal particles pass about half a metre over his head.

Two more blasts came from the alley, but both were slightly above him. Jeb Stuart Ho swivelled on his stomach with his own gun braced in both hands. He let go two shots in the direction of the flashes. It seemed from their position that there was more than one gunman. More riot blasts screamed over his head, and Ho returned the fire.

There was a clatter of garbage cans, and two men broke cover and ran, weaving in a low crouch down the alley. Jeb Stuart Ho snapped off a shot, and one of them fell. He was about to fire again, but the second man vanished into the shadows.

Ho, still flat on the ground, moved sideways like a crab. He reached the cover of the Sex-O-Mat wall and cautiously stood up. Still holding his gun, he drew his sword left-handed. He moved slowly and carefully down the alley. He was tensed to shoot at the slightest movement. After about twelve paces he came upon the body of one of the assassins. There was an ugly hole in his chest, and he was quite dead. Jeb Stuart Ho felt a grim satisfaction at his marksmanship. He now only had one killer to deal with. He moved on along the alley, keeping a careful watch on the deep shadows.

There was a slight movement, and Ho sprang sideways like a cat as a riot gun went off. A handful of particles nicked the right arm of his suit. He landed fractionally off balance, and before he could fire, a figure leaped to its feet and started running back in the direction of the street. The man made an easy target against the streetlights. Jeb Stuart Ho was about to fire, but then he changed his mind. He wanted this one alive. He dropped his gun into its holster, switched his sword to his right hand, and went after him.

When he reached the pavement the man hesitated for a moment and then ran to his right. A second later, Jeb Stuart Ho turned the corner, and saw him duck inside the Sex-O-Mat. Jeb Stuart Ho followed. Inside the brightly lit doorway was a red velvet curtain. He swept it aside and found a turnstile. He didn’t bother to fumble for his credit card. He jumped it. There was no sign of the man in the small anteroom. He went on into a red-lit corridor. On either side of it were red doors that led into two rows of cubicles. The man must have taken refuge in one of the cubicles. Jeb Stuart Ho started towards the first. A figure appeared from a small alcove.

‘Hey you!’

Ho swung round with his sword in the ready position. It was a guardian. Probably the Sex-O-Mat bouncer. The clone seemed to ignore the pointed sword and kept on coming.

‘You have entered without paying.’

Ho took a step back.

‘Did a man come through here?’

The clone kept on moving towards him.

‘You will either leave or pay.’

He produced a short club from his belt. Jeb Stuart Ho took another step back. He was struck by a sense of the absurd. Here he was, an expert swordsman, backing away from a man with a small billy club. He had no desire to kill the man, but he couldn’t afford to lose the gunman. He deliberately lowered his sword. The guardian swung his club at his head. Jeb Stuart Ho’s hand flashed up and blocked the blow. At the same time, the hilt of his sword flicked the clone behind the ears. He suddenly sagged to the floor. Jeb Stuart Ho stepped over him and started down the corridor.

Each door had a small tri-di cube set in the door, just below eye level. This gave the customer an idea of what particular attraction the cubicle contained. The first one showed a young girl lying down with her legs spread wide. She was caressing herself with a single repeating motion. The cubes were obviously run on a single short loop. On the second door a well-built girl in an outfit of leather and studs repeatedly cracked a long bullwhip, while the third showed a muscular young man flexing his biceps.

The fourth was blank. It looked as though it was filled with a kind of pink mist. Jeb Stuart Ho assumed that it was the sign that the cubicle was occupied. He took a pace back and then launched himself at the door. His foot hit the lock and it shattered. He pivoted so a riot gun blast from inside the cubicle wouldn’t hit him. None came. He pushed the door. A girl was on all fours on the bed, a small fat man crouching over her. They both stared at Jeb Stuart Ho, wide-eyed with shock and fear. He muttered his apologies and closed the damaged door.

The next two had images in the cube. The third was occupied. He hit the door. This time he interrupted a. loose-skinned middle-aged woman being thrashed by a handsome, golden-tanned young man. Again Ho made his excuses and shut the door.

At the third door Jeb Stuart Ho hesitated. All he seemed to be doing was progressively breaking up the Sex-O-Mat and frightening the customers. The man should be in the place somewhere. He poised himself to hit the door. At the last moment he remembered to twist and avoid any blast inside the cubicle. A fraction of a second later his care was rewarded. A riot gun blast shattered the door frame.

Ho rolled into the room. A small man in dirty overalls was half standing, half kneeling on the bed. A frightened sex operative was huddled in the corner. Before the gunman could fire again, Ho stabbed his sword clean through his foot. The man screamed. Ho lashed out with his foot and knocked the riot gun out of his hands. The man attempted to drag the sword out of his foot, but Jeb Stuart Ho kept on holding the sword. The man gashed his hand and gave up the attempt. Ho flicked one of his knives forward into his hand from the sheath on his arm. He placed it gently under the man’s chin.

‘I wish to talk to you.’

‘My foot! Take the goddamn sword out.’

‘When you’ve told me what I want to know.’

‘I ain’t saying nothing.’

‘But you are. You are making a great deal of noise. I need to know why you tried to kill me.’

‘I can’t tell you.’

‘Why not?’

‘They’ll kill me.’

‘Who will kill you?’

‘I’m not saying.’

‘I will kill you. It will be very slow and painful. I have no desire to do it, but I need the information you have very badly.’

The man looked desperate.

‘If I talk I’ll be killed.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at him with great patience.

‘If that is the truth, you must accept death, for if you don’t talk, I am going to kill you.’

‘Please …’

‘I take it that A.A. Catto hired you.’

‘I don’t know any A.A. Catto.’

Jeb Stuart Ho twisted the sword a little. The man gasped and sweat stood out on his forehead.

‘Listen … It was a girl that hired me. For fuck’s sake take that thing out of my foot.’