Synaptic Manhunt (16 page)

‘Up on the fifth floor, but there’s more of them waiting for you.’

‘I see.’

Jeb Stuart Ho turned and peered up the dark lift shaft. He would be a sitting duck if he used the lift. He saw that a set of emergency stairs ran round the outside of the shaft. He would be safer using them. As he started up the first flight he turned back, and smiled sardonically at the white-faced desk clerk.

‘I hope you locate whatever you lost.’

He went up the first three floors very quickly, but as he approached the fourth he slowed down and took the stairs much more carefully. It would be foolish not to assume that another trap had been set for him. He stepped on to the fourth floor landing, ready to act at the slightest sound or movement. Nothing happened. Ho waited for a few moments and then moved silently towards the next set of steps. There would be men waiting at the top of the next flight.

There were eight steps in front of him. Then a right-angle turn and, if it was the same as the first four, another eight that led up to the fifth floor. Ho moved silently up to the turn, and stopped. Still nothing had happened. He looked up at the last eight steps. He took a firmer grip on his gun and sword. He put his foot on the first step. Nothing. He tried the second, the third and the fourth. Still there was no explosion of gunfire. Maybe the desk clerk had lied. Maybe there was no one lying in wait. Maybe A.A. Catto had fled the Leader Hotel altogether. He touched the fifth step. He moved to the sixth. As he placed his foot silently on the seventh step, there was the roar of a riot gun. The blast smashed lumps of plaster out of the wall above his head. He somersaulted backwards down the eight steps and landed on his feet at the turn in the stairs. A hail of needles gouged into the wall where he’d been standing just a fraction of a second before.

Jeb Stuart Ho crouched on the stair. On his hands and knees he edged his way forward, a centimetre at a time. The needles and the riot blast meant there were at least two gunmen waiting for him. At the sixth step he paused. He unstrapped the nanchuk from his arm, held one end at arm’s length, and quickly swung the other. It soared into the air, hit the far wall of the landing and clattered on the stone floor.

One riot blast hit the far wall, another smashed plaster from the wall beside the stairs, a burst of needles screamed, ricocheting through the steel cage of the lift shaft. Jeb Stuart Ho smiled grimly. There had to be three of them. The riot blasts were too close together and the angle of fire too great for them to have come from the same gun. For a fraction of a second one of the gunmen had emerged from cover to fire. It was one of the men with riot guns. He crouched in an open doorway. Jeb Stuart Ho could only see him when he leaned out to fire.

He waited patiently, crouching halfway up that last flight. Sure enough, a minute hardly passed before the man cautiously poked his head out and looked around. Jeb Stuart Ho snapped off a single shot. It smashed the man’s forehead and pitched him back inside the room. There was another riot blast, and another burst of needles. Each hit an opposite side of the stairs. Jeb Stuart Ho remained very still and thought carefully.

At each end of the fifth floor landing, a corridor led away to the various rooms. From the way their shots were hitting the wall, he decided that the two men must be somewhere in the corridor, positioned at opposite ends of the landing, maintaining a crossfire on the head of the stairs. While he stayed where he was they couldn’t hit him, but once he set foot on the landing, one at least would probably get a shot at him while he was dealing with the other. He couldn’t afford to waste time. It seemed he would have to take a chance on their reactions being slower than his.

Jeb Stuart Ho took a step backwards. He tensed himself. He flashed up the stairs and hit the landing. He leaped and, curling himself into a ball, he crashed into the far wall. The riot gun exploded. The bulk of the charge missed him. A few particles ripped through the fabric of his suit. He could feel blood running down his arm. He fired at the man from a crouch. The impact of the bullet flung him backwards down the corridor. He twitched a couple of times and lay still. Ho swung round to face the killer with the needle gun. He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t shot at him. As he raised his gun he saw why. The riot blast that had been meant for Jeb Stuart Ho had caught the man squarely in the chest. He must have stood up to take aim and been caught in his partner’s fire. His body was almost cut in half. It lay in a rapidly spreading pool of blood. A grey fedora lay about a metre from the mutilated corpse.

Jeb Stuart Ho stood up cautiously. There were no more shots. It seemed as though there was nobody else lying in wait for him. He dropped his gun into its holster, and walked down the corridor. He still kept his sword in his hand. He stepped over the body, and looked inside the first room. It was empty. The door of the second was wide open. In one corner was a huddled figure. Its hands were tied behind its back. It looked up. Jeb Stuart Ho saw it was the Minstrel Boy. He lowered his sword. The Minstrel Boy grinned crookedly.

‘I was wondering when you’d get here.’

Jeb Stuart Ho sheathed his sword and stood looking down at the Minstrel Boy. His face was grim.

‘Where is A.A. Catto?’

‘She’s gone.’

‘Gone? How?’

‘She rented an airship. They left from the roof. They must have got well away by now.’

Jeb Stuart Ho’s jaw muscles tightened, but otherwise he showed no sign of the anger and frustration that welled up inside him. The Minstrel Boy struggled to sit up.

‘Aren’t you going to untie me?’

Jeb Stuart Ho didn’t move. A thought had just struck him. The Minstrel Boy’s voice took on a querulous edge.

‘Come on, Killer. Don’t just stand there, untie me.’

Jeb Stuart Ho stared hard at him.

‘It must have been you who informed them where I was.’

The Minstrel Boy adopted a look of pained surprise.

‘Who, me?’

‘It could only have been you.’

‘How would I know where you were?’

‘You must have used your credit card. I can think of no other way.’

‘You’re crazy.’

‘I could check with the bank.’

Jeb Stuart Ho moved towards the vid set. The Minstrel Boy sighed.

‘Okay, okay. It was me. I found you through the bank.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked coldly at him.

‘So you changed sides.’

‘Does it look as though I changed sides? Would I be lying here tied up if I changed sides?’

‘You told them where I was.’

‘So? Who says I changed sides? Who says I was on your side in the first place? You forced me to guide you at gunpoint. That don’t mean I owe you anything.’

‘They threw a bomb into an eating house. A number of people were killed.’

The Minstrel Boy’s mouth set in a stubborn line.

‘So? What could I do? They beat me up. They would have killed me if I hadn’t told, them. I never asked to get involved in your private wars, and no way am I responsible for any bystanders who get in the way. Now, are you going to untie me or not?’

Jeb Stuart Ho reluctantly pulled one of his knives from the sheath on his arm and sliced through the Minstrel Boy’s bond. He stood up and began massaging the circulation back into his wrists. Ho put away his knife, and walked slowly out of the room. The Minstrel Boy paused for a moment, and then followed him. As he was about to start down the stairs, something on one of the bodies on the landing caught his eye. Around its waist was his knife belt. He walked over to the body, bent down and retrieved it. He strapped the belt round his own hips and followed Jeb Stuart Ho down to the lobby.

When they reached the ground floor, Chief-Agent Bannion and a squad of LDC patrolmen were waiting. Bannion stared at Jeb Stuart Ho with his hands clasped behind his back. The ever-present cigar was clamped between his teeth.

‘You just can’t stop, can you?’

Jeb Stuart Ho inclined his head.

‘The trials that beset us are as numerous as the flowers that bloom.’

‘I don’t give a fuck what besets you, brother. It’s the way you beset me that I care about. You are giving me ulcers.’

‘A careful diet might correct that.’

Bannion began to turn crimson.

‘Don’t get wise with me, buster. There’s two men dead here. The desk clerk says you killed them.’

Jeb Stuart Ho shrugged.

‘Didn’t he also tell you that they were trying to kill me?’

Bannion began to pace up and down. Finally he stopped in front of Ho. He thrust his face very close to Ho’s.

‘Your score so far is nine dead, including the five we pulled out of the burger joint.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at him calmly.

‘There are three more upstairs.’

Bannion looked as though he might haemorrhage.

‘Divine Marquis give me patience. I suppose you’re going to claim that was self-defence.’

Jeb Stuart Ho nodded.

‘That is correct.’

The Minstrel Boy began to edge towards the door. Bannion saw him out of the corner of his eye and swung round.

‘You! You hold it right there!’

‘Who, me?’

‘Yes, you. You’re mixed up in this somewhere.’

The Minstrel Boy became a picture of innocence.

‘Not me, mister Chief-Agent, sir. I was just passing through.’

Bannion snarled. He looked ugly.

‘Bullshit. You arrived in town with this maniac, and he paid you with a credit card. Right?’

‘I was only a guide. He forced me to lead him here.’

‘Okay then. You can just lead him away again. You’re both being expelled from the city. If you’re still here in one hour, my men will shoot you on sight.’

Jeb Stuart Ho’s face became set.

‘I have a task to complete.’

Bannion’s eyes narrowed.

‘I don’t give a fuck about your mission, you’re leaving town.’

Suddenly he seemed to relax. He half grinned.

‘Anyway, A.A. Catto’s gone.’

‘Gone?’

‘That’s right, gone. Much as it hurts me to give you any assistance at all, she’s left town. She’s in a rented airship. It’s passed the city limits and is heading for the nothings. So go. You hear me? Go!’

Jeb Stuart Ho nodded.

‘I hear you.’ Bannion pointed at the Minstrel Boy.

‘And take him with you.’

The Minstrel Boy’s eyebrows shot up.

‘I ain’t going with him. I’ll leave town, but I ain’t going with him.’

Bannion grabbed the lapels of his frock coat.

‘Oh yes you are.’

‘Why? Why have I got to go with him?’

‘So you can lead him to A.A. Catto, and I can be sure he won’t get lost and come back here. Okay?’

‘I’m damned if it’s okay. I don’t mind leaving town. I’ve been thrown out of better towns than this, but him, I ain’t no way going with him.’

Bannion tightened his grip on the Minstrel Boy’s jacket.

‘Oh yes you are.’

The Minstrel Boy tried to pull away.

‘Listen, take your hands off me. You got it all wrong. Shit, I couldn’t even help him if I wanted to. I can’t track people through the nothings. It’s just not possible.’

Bannion pushed the Minstrel Boy forcibly away. He staggered back across the lobby. He was fielded by two patrolmen who held him while Bannion sauntered towards him.

‘You’re a goddamn liar.’

The Minstrel Boy paled.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know what I mean.’

The Minstrel Boy began to struggle.

‘You can’t do it. You can’t do it to me.’

Bannion smiled nastily.

‘I can. I’ll do anything to make sure you two get out and stay out.’

The Minstrel Boy shook his head desperately.

‘You wouldn’t do that.’

‘I would.’

Jeb Stuart Ho interrupted. He looked puzzled.

‘I don’t understand. What are you two talking about?’

Bannion turned to Ho. His grin became meaner and wider.

‘He can follow A.A. Catto anywhere.’

The Minstrel Boy’s voice became hysterical.

‘No I can’t.’

One of the patrolmen twisted his arm, and the Minstrel Boy shut up. Bannion went on.

‘Any guide can get a fix on a single individual, provided you keep him shot full of cyclatrol. It gives them some kind of overall vision. Don’t ask me how it works, but it does.’

Jeb Stuart Ho stroked his chin. He looked at the Minstrel Boy.

‘Is this true?’

Sweat had broken out on his forehead. He shook his head.

‘No, no, it’s all lies. Nothing like that … argh!’

One of the patrolmen had twisted his arm again. He subsided.

‘Yes, it’s true …’

His voice rose again.

‘… But it could kill me.’

Jeb Stuart Ho looked at Bannion questioningly.

‘Is this true? Will the drug kill him?’

Bannion shrugged.

‘It might. But it’s not all that likely. He could go mad.’

Ho nodded.

‘I suppose we’ll have to take the chance.’

The Minstrel Boy began to struggle violently with the men holding him.

‘No! No! You can’t do this to me!’

Bannion swung round angrily.

‘Shut him up.’

One of the patrolmen tapped the Minstrel Boy sharply across the back of the head with the butt of his nightstick. The Minstrel Boy slumped forward. Bannion turned back to Jeb Stuart Ho.

‘I’m taking you down to headquarters. I’ll fix you up with transport for the nothings, supplies and the drugs for him.’

He jerked his thumb towards the Minstrel Boy who hung limply between the two patrolmen. Jeb Stuart Ho ran his fingers through his hair.

‘There’s no alternative choice?’

Bannion shook his head.

‘You’ve got no choice at all. I’d still rather have you quietly shot.’

Jeb Stuart Ho bowed.

‘I suppose I should thank you for this help with my task.’

Bannion’s lip curled.

‘Save it. It’s going to cost the brotherhood a fortune.’

He signalled to the squad of patrolmen. They bundled Jeb Stuart Ho and the Minstrel Boy out of the hotel lobby, across the sidewalk and into the back of a patrolcar. Around them, the camera crews and sightseers were already starting to crowd round the entrance of the Leader Hotel.