Svaha, page 15
He withdrew back down the corridor and around the first corner, moving silently in a blur of speed. Unclipping his com-link from his belt, he spoke quickly into it to make his report.
"Matte zo," came the brusque reply. Hold your position.
"Hai."
Reinforcements were on the way.
Bannai returned the com-link to his belt. Steeljack in hand, he edged forward down the corridor, taking up a position at the corner where he could see the door to the workshop. Torogano's body lay sprawled on the floor, his blood splattered all over the doorjamb and walls.
There was no sound in the room beyond the corpse.
Bannai frowned. They had checked for a rear exit before making their frontal assault. What was the Ragman doing in there? Had Torogano managed to get off a shot before he'd died? He ran through the incident in his mind. Iie. There'd been only one shot. Then what—
A footstep in the corridor behind him made him turn. With a yak's fluid speed, Bannai brought up his Steeljack to take down the giant black man who, as he realized that he'd been discovered, bellowed an inarticulate string of sounds and charged the yak.
Bannai fired.
3
Fang Wo was the barman of the Ch'ing-jen Fan, behind which the Ragman had his office. He was playing with his com-link during an idle moment, looking for a better bootlegged Plex transmit than the Kinzoku trans that his old com-link kept picking up. The deh box needed an overhaul, bad. He was sick to death of Metaldrone. All it did was give him buzz-fatigue between his ears, and he didn't need that on this job. He got enough just listening to drunks and wireheads.
He nodded to J.D., who walked by with a junkwalker in tow—nice ass on the kid, he thought—and wondered if J.D. knew that a couple of yaks had gone back to the Ragman's office ahead of him. The Ragman was always busy, which was why Wo had been trying to fix his com-link by himself the past few nights, instead of taking it in back. He adjusted his earphones, twiddling the com-link's dials some more, then froze as he accidentally tapped into a personal transmission.
Yaks. Coming here in force?
He tore off the earphones and went running for the manager.
Three minutes later, armed chinas and tongs were deployed around the building and upon its roof, waiting for the yakuza assault.
4
J.D. wasn't much good at explaining, Jaenie Lash thought, not so much because he wanted to sound mysterious like so many pretenders did, but just because he had a hard time communicating. But if the Ragman wanted to see her, Jaenie'd be there. Like a lot of rats in the squats, she felt she owed the Ragman more than she could ever repay.
The Ch'ing-jen Fan was an assault on her senses as J.D. led her past the doorman and into the club. Vids blaring at full volume, customers dancing or burning up wire in a corner, smoke so thick you could cut it with your hand. They passed the barman who was playing with his com-link—how's he hear anything over all this shit? she wondered, then they were going back to the Ragman's office and all hell broke loose.
She saw the yak crouched on the floor, turning so fast he was a blur, Steeljack aimed at them. J.D. just roared and charged, but Jaenie dropped to the floor and crawled as fast as she could back out into the club. She was fast, but the yak's fléchette caught J.D. full in the chest before she could get away, the small explosion splattering her and the walls with blood.
Then she was in the club. She stood up, the blood smeared on her face and clothes, trying to scream out a warning above the roar of the music. It took her only a moment to see that she didn't have to.
The whole club looked like it was preparing for war. Chinas and tongs with knives, swords, Steeljacks and one-shot spot-welded pistols. When the yak behind her stepped out of the door, he sprouted three throwing knives from his chest while a fléchette from someone's Steeljack took off the side of his face before he even got to fire one shot.
The music died as its plug got pulled. Jaenie heard some wireheads start to moan at the far side of the club. She took out her own knives, one in either hand.
"Here they come!" she heard someone cry.
She didn't know what was going on, and wasn't sure she cared, but so long as she was here… She thought of the Ragman. If she had to stand by somebody, she'd be standing by him before she would the tongs or chinas. With everyone's attention on the front of the club, she stepped over the dead yak and started back down the corridor to the Ragman's office.
As she went, the first sounds of the squat defenders attacking the incoming yaks followed her down the hall.
5
As soon as the Fax Vid broadcasted their initial report of the riot in the squats, Tomiji Takahata opened a conference link with all of the department heads of Ho Anzen Securities.
"I want our men down there in full riot gear—ima!" he ordered. Now.
"But Takahata-san," Aoki protested. "The riot is in the squats. Our franchise doesn't cover—"
"This is a direct order."
"Hai," the other security heads immediately said.
"Our responsibility doesn't—" Aoki tried.
"Include the squats?" Takahata said. "Hai. But what better time to rid ourselves of some yaks, neh? Besides, our men could use the practice."
Protesting was useless, Aoki realized. Obediently, he gave a brisk Hai himself, then cut the connection. Before he put in a call to his own men, he tried to call Goro, but the lines were all engaged. He hesitated a long moment further, then sent out the order to those under his command.
Within minutes, black armour-suited security officers, laser rifles in hand connected to computer backpacks, were converging on the riot in the squats.
It was going to be a bloodbath, Aoki realized, and Goro was not going to be pleased. Outfitted in his own armour, laser rifle slung from his shoulder, he tried again to get through to the oyabun as he rode down in an open-bedded Ho Anzen land cruiser, but the connection still couldn't be made.
6
The klaxon whine of his com-link's alarm circuits brought Yip out of bed and scrambling for his clothes before he was even fully awake. He killed the alarm on his com-link and listened gravely to the orders he was given, sleep dropping away as the import of what he was being told sank in.
"Phillip, what is it?" Miko asked from the bed. Her eyes still appeared half-asleep, her dark hair mussed.
"A riot in the squats—yaks attacking a club."
"Yaks?" Miko sat up, suddenly awake now herself. "That's impossible."
Yip shrugged and began to put on his clothes. "I only know what I've been told."
Miko reached over to a side table and used the remote control unit there to turn on her vid. She switched stations until she was tuned in to the Fax Vid report. Their cameramen were already on the scene of what looked like a full-blown war from an action vid. Chinas and tongs warred with yaks. She and Yip had tuned in just in time to see the arrival of the first Ho Anzen security officers who indiscriminately sprayed laser fire at either side.
"Chiksho," she murmured and turned to Yip. "Why is Ho Anzen getting involved? The squats aren't included in their franchise."
Yip was wondering that himself. "Apparently Goro hasn't got friends at the very top of the company yet," he said. "Takahata must be using this as an excuse to hunt down a few yaks. Dealing with them in a situation such as this allows for a far cheaper and more conclusive solution to them than one can gain in the courts, neh? To attack Goro's men in the city like this, couldn't be justified, but in the squats… Who cares what happens in the squats?"
He started for the door.
"Phillip—be careful. Come back to me."
Yip paused, hand on the door. "Hai," he said. Then he left to join the madness in the squats.
7
The Ragman almost shot Jaenie as she came through the door.
"What the hell's going on out there, darling?" he asked.
"Everybody's gone crazy. Yaks attacking the club, chinas and tongs attacking the yaks. We've gotta get out of here, Ragman."
"Only one way out," he said and pointed back the way she'd come.
"Then we gotta hide."
The Ragman took a moment to think, then he nodded. "Up on the roof," he said. You get cornered, you take to the high ground.
He led the way out into the corridor, coming to an abrupt halt when he saw J.D.'s corpse sprawled on the floor. J.D.'s Steeljack was still holstered. He'd gone after an armed, augmented yak bare-handed.
"If Jah's dead," the Ragman said softly. "Maybe you'll find him now, Jack."
He knelt on the floor beside the body and put his hand on J.D.'s face, gently closing the eyes. His chest was tight, throat feeling swollen.
"Ragman—we gotta move."
When he turned back to look at her, Jaenie almost didn't recognize him. Gone were the easy smiling features, the laughing eyes. The Ragman's face was a stiff mask, the eyes hard and cold.
"They just declared war," he said. There was ice in his voice.
"Ragman…?"
"I'm coming, darling."
He rose from the body and continued to lead the way onto the roof. We'll hide, he thought. We'll get away any way we can. But I'm coming back for you, Goro. You don't know it yet, but as of when your boy shot down J.D., you became a walking dead man. Believe me, Goro, 'cause the Ragman don't tell lies.
THIRTEEN
1
Gahzee had seen satellite photos of the squats in the Enclave, but photos alone could never have prepared him for what they were actually like. The smell was the worst, hitting him from blocks away with a mixture of rot, human waste, and the acid sting of the fouled air. The buildings were in worse repair than those out in the badlands, tottering concrete and metal structures that leaned against each other for support. There was garbage and litter in the streets, feral dogs darting away from the stabbing light of the Usaijin's headbeam.
The medé worried about Nanabozho when he saw the dogs, but when he looked for his brother, the coyote was already gone.
Moving on a Stalker's Wheel, Gahzee's gaze pierced the darkness to catch glimpses of movement in the buildings, quick head and shoulder shots before the occupants ducked out of sight. They were frightened of the threat that he and Lisa appeared to present—he in his stolen yak clothes, she in the mask and feathered headdress of a swagger girl. An unlikely pair to be speeding through the squats. The rats who lived here wanted nothing to do with them.
It was noisier than he'd expected as well. In the distance he could see a flare of lights that could only come from conflagrations and laser fire. It sounded like a full-scale battle. They got within blocks of the disturbance, then just as he was bringing the three-wheeler to a halt to take stock of the situation, Lisa hit him between the shoulders.
"Pull over!" she cried.
Cutting the Usaijin's quiet engine, Gahzee peered off between the buildings. In the distance he could see lines of figures advancing on each other. Poorly equipped rats, dozens of yaks, Megaplex security officers looking like giant black bugs in their full riot gear—all involved in a violent melee.
"What—" he began.
"Shit!" Lisa cut him off. "That's where we were going. Something's gone wrong."
"The Ragman…?"
"The building they're all fighting around's where he keeps his workshop and office. Shit."
Gahzee started up the Usaijin again. "Let's work our way in closer."
But as he pulled away again, Lisa suddenly gripped his shoulder. He slowed the three-wheeler, his own gaze locking on the china running down the street toward them, momentarily caught in the Usaijin's headbeam.
"That's one of the guys that jumped me!" Lisa cried.
The china darted into the nearest alleyway. Before Gahzee could stop her, Lisa had jumped off the slow-moving machine. She stumbled in the refuse, caught her balance, and was after him. Gahzee brought the Usaijin around in a tight circle, slowing down even more to avoid the debris in the street. By the time he reached the mouth of the alley and pointed his headbeam down it, there was no sign of either Lisa or the china.
He looked back to where the china had come from. The riot was little more than a short block away. He fed the Usaijin some fuel and started down the alley, but before it swallowed him, a security officer had spotted him. The black-armoured drone brought up his laser, computer circuits locking on the target.
The blast of the laser hit the back right wheel of the Usaijin, spinning the vehicle out of control. Gahzee fought the spin, but then the fuel tank under the machine between the two rear wheels exploded. He was thrown into the air, hitting the nearest building with the full length of his body before sliding down into a mound of trash.
He lay unmoving. Farther down the alley, what remained of the uncontrolled Usaijin smashed into another wall. Flaming fuel rained on the debris in the alley, setting it all aflame.
The security officer jogged down the street to finish off his target, but a couple of yaks jumped him before he was halfway to the alley. He brought the laser rifle around. The yaks were too close. One was armed with a katana that bit through his armour. He never had a chance to fire another shot. The sword opened his chest and he fell to the street, intestines heaving from his body like a spill of ghastly streamers.
Stripping off the laser rifle and backpack, the two yaks withdrew from the street with their booty. Behind them, the security officer died, his eyes clouding behind the protective mask of his helmet. Farther away from the riot, the fire spread in the alleyway, eating up the flammable debris with a greedy hunger as it darted for Gahzee.
The medé never stirred. Unconscious, he remained unaware of his danger.
2
Lisa wasn't sure what had possessed her to jump off the moving Usaijin, but there was no time to puzzle it out. A pile of garbage broke her fall, sending up a cloud of stench that was so strong even her mask couldn't filter it all. Regaining her balance, she went running down the alley after the china, not even waiting for Gahzee to follow.
The alley took a turn to the left when it reached the end of the building and stopped in a dead end at a battered fence. The china was almost at the top by the time she'd halved the distance between them. She dragged the Steeljack from its holster under her jacket.
"Wei!" she cried in Mandarin. "Tang i tang!" Wait up there.
"Ni deh!" he called back. Fuck you.
"Fuck yourself," she muttered and fired the Steeljack.
Unfamiliar with the weapon, she didn't come close to hitting him, but the impact of the fléchette as it exploded against the wall was enough to make him lose his grip and come tumbling down. Before he could recover, Lisa was on him, sitting on his chest, the Steeljack pointed at his head.
"Shih-mo hsin-wen," she said conversationally. What's happening?"
When he started to struggle, she pushed the muzzle of the Steeljack right up against his temple.
"I might not be such a shit-hot shot, pal, but I don't think even I can miss at this range, ma?"
He was scared to death, Lisa saw, and it wasn't just because she had the auto-pistol to his head. He couldn't have recognized her, because she was still wearing the swagger girl mask. So what was his problem?
"I want the package you stole from me," she told him.
"Wo pu tung." I don't understand.
She pulled the mask off. The stink of the squats hit her like a blow. "See this face, asshole? Do you remember me now?"
His eyes widened, taking in her striped messenger's tattoos, recognizing her for who she was, but the fear that had gripped him began to lessen.
"Where's your yak?" he asked.
So that was it. He was scared of the Goro Clan.
"I've got the 'jack, so you'd better—"
There was the sound of gunfire—closer than ever—followed by an explosion that roared down the alley like a clap of thunder. Worrying about Gahzee now, Lisa pressed the gun harder against the china's temple.
"I haven't got time to shit with you. Tell me what you did with the package and you can walk outta this alley in one piece. Otherwise your friends'll be picking pieces of your head out of the bricks for the next twenty years—tung ma?"
Can I do it? she wondered. Just shoot him down in cold blood? Not likely, but she realized that it didn't matter. Just so long as he believed she could.
"Shih-ti," he said.
"That's a good start. Now gimme some names."
"We delivered the package to Chien Foo."
The name only rang a faint bell. "That doesn't mean anything to me. Try a little harder."
"He's Huen Ho Fung's lieutenant."
Oh shit, she thought. She hadn't recognized the name, but she knew the man by sight. He was San Ho Hui—part of the Triple Union Societies known as the triads. Next to Ho Fung himself, Chien Foo was the highest member of the local Ho Fung Triad. You never saw Ho Fung in the squats, but Foo was always around. The triads supposedly dated back to the reign of Yung Cheng in the eighteenth century. They'd started as a political movement to oust the Manchu dynasty, but evolved into organizations not a whole lot different from the yaks, except they were primarily made up of Chinese. And they had her package?
"If you're shitting me…"
"Hey, we made a bad move—okay? Hitting a messenger and all. The money was just too good. But now I'm making good."
Watching him, Lisa wondered if she could believe him. And where was Gahzee? The medé should've been here by now. He probably had some kind of lie-detecting Wheel he could've used on this guy. Now she had to decide whether to trust him or not on her own. The Ho Fung Triad? It sounded about right. The tongs wouldn't have the balls, and the chinas were interested in turf, not tech.
