The best part was that it wasn’t jacked into the transit network, so the brass couldn’t tag it and tow me in. Perfectly illegal, but that was pretty much the point.
I helped Natasha on the bike. She stared vacantly in space while her mind retreated from the horrors that she’d just endured. I couldn’t tell if she knew where she was or what was happening.
“Just hang on, Natasha. You hear me? Hang on tight, ‘cause we’re gonna to have to hightail it outta here.”
She wrapped her arms around my waist, so at least I knew that she still had some awareness left. I cranked the hoversled with my thumbprint and the fusion reactor rumbled to life. We shot forward off the rooftop when I squeezed on the accelerator handle.
There was a reason why I didn’t use the hoversled much. I hated floaters. There’s something about flying across empty space that just didn’t take with me. I’d much rather feel the grip of wheels on the streets where I felt I had at least some aspect of control. Up in the air there’s too many variables, too many things that can go wrong. Plus the thing was basically a flying motorcycle. Not exactly the most secure crate to soar around in.
None of that mattered as I dipped in between the towering complexes of the Flats. The decaying remnants of the former glory of New Haven were mute witnesses to our escape. The thrum of the motor filled the canyons, reverberating like shots to the chest. I stayed low on purpose. The lower sections of the Flats were much darker since the city didn’t waste much money on lighting up the poorer sections. Even less chance of evil eyes that actually worked. Folks in the Flats don’t much like surveillance. They do like to shoot down the orbital cameras on sight, though.
Plus if I joined the traffic above us then I’d stick out like a sore thumb in all of that transit-controlled airspace. Not too many folks operated floaters manually. So I zipped past the near-empty office spaces and tenement buildings, weaving back and forth to confuse anything that might try to tail me. Predictably it started to rain, soaking us immediately. I felt Natasha’s weight as she leaned against me. I imagined that I could see the rain that plastered her hair and streamed down her face, mingling with her tears.
I headed for the one place that they’d never look for Natasha. The red light district. Particularly La Lupanar, the cathouse that I frequented when I wanted a little feminine company without the headaches of strings and attachments. Which meant that I frequented there pretty often.
I called the joint as we got closer. “Yeah, this is Mick Trubble. Let Esmeralda know that I’m coming in hot. Tell her that I need a favor.”
Chapter 7: The Storm
Madam Esmeralda met me in the alley out back of the mansion-styled bordello. She was a creamy-skinned dish of a woman with an ageless face and regal mannerisms. Her hair was soft and black as raven feathers, elaborately styled in Victorian fashion. So was her dress, which included a rose-embroidered corset that emphasized her curvy waistline. Her low-cut lacey blouse did practically nothing to cover the milky breasts that appeared precariously close to spilling out. Normally I would’ve have been pleasantly distracted by all of that lustful eye candy, but right then I was in a completely different state of mind.
“This is a most unusual request, Mr. Trubble.” Esmeralda spoke with a French accent that was almost as alluring as her appearance. She stood under the awning of the doorway to avoid the rain that poured on me and Natasha. A uniformed woman stood beside her. From the stern face and stiff stance I knew the dame was one of Esmeralda’s security guards. The joint had a few of them scattered around to keep an eye on things, and any rube who thought they were easy to roll over soon learned otherwise. Esmeralda looked at Natasha, then back at me with a raised eyebrow.
“You think that I take in strays? I am not seeking any new girls right now.”
Natasha held on to my arm tightly, shivering from more than the downpour. I put an arm around her as I spoke to Esmeralda. “Not quite what I had in mind. Her folks were just killed by a shylock with a grudge. She’s all that’s left to finish the job. I need to stash her away so I can concentrate on the scumbags that are looking for her.”
The guard held an umbrella for Esmeralda as she stepped forward. She gently cupped Natasha’s chin in her hand and peered at her face. “The poor girl is in shock.”
Natasha shuddered and buried her face into my arm. I looked at Esmeralda. “Will you do it? I’ll owe you. Anything you might need in the future just let me know.”
Esmeralda’s eyes narrowed. “You have the look of a man about to do violence, Mr. Trubble. If you get yourself killed doing all of that male vengeance foolishness, how will you be able to fulfill your promise?”
“I don’t plan on buying the farm just yet. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”
Esmeralda studied my face as if weighing me for value. Finally she nodded.
“Very well. But I cannot force her to come with me. If you can convince her to trust me then I will take her in. Only for a while, however.”
I tipped my Bogart respectfully. “That’s all the time I need.”
I turned to Natasha. “Listen, sweetheart. I know you’re hurting. I know that you wanna go somewhere safe, somewhere that the pain you’re feeling doesn’t exist. But you gotta listen to me now. Are you listening?”
Rain slid down her face. Droplets hung from her eyelids as she stared at me vacantly. But something seemed to flicker from somewhere deep inside. Her lips trembled.
“I’m… I’m listening, Mick Trubble.”
“That’s it. Take a few deep breaths and stay with me. I gotta leave for a little bit. This won’t be over until I take care of the people who did this to your folks. I can’t watch you and handle that at the same time, you understand?”
Her grip tightened painfully on my arm for a second, but she nodded.
“You asked me what is that I do. I’m gonna tell you now. I take cases for people when they got no one else to turn to. When the law can’t or won’t help them, they give someone like me a call. I’m taking a case for you right now. I’m gonna make sure that no one will ever come for you again. But you have to stay here with Madam Esmeralda until I come back for you. You can trust her. Do you understand?”
She looked up at me. Lightning flashed in that instant, allowing me a good look at the rage and grief that swam in her gaze. She nodded.
“Then stay here. I’ll be back when it’s over. I promise.” I turned and got back on the hoversled as Esmeralda led Natasha to the doorway. The rumble of the motor was lost in the sound of the downpour as I soared off. The rain stung like pellets as it struck me, but I could barely feel it on account of the pain that I already felt inside. A storm was brewing, cold and terrible as it gathered.
I was the storm.
“Hello Mick.”
Hunter Valentino’s place was about as pleasant as a haunted house. The roof sagged, the walls were busted, and the flooring was half rotted. A single light bulb served as the only source of illumination. And it flickered.
I didn’t like coming there, and it wasn’t just that Hunter stayed in the West Docks. And it wasn’t just because Hunter was an uncontrolled synoid with possible homicidal tendencies. It was because Hunter was the one who pulled me outta the water that night when I should have died. In return for pumping the river from my lungs, he made me promise not to tell anyone about him and his unrestricted status. I could understand that. Any synthetic humanoid that somehow became free of its directives was targeted to be scrapped immediately.
But what I didn’t understand was why he fished me out the river in the first place. He was a hunter model synoid, and they were built for one purpose: assassination. Saving a life went completely against their programming. Hunter had never offered a reason. What he did offer was his assistance if I ever needed his unique skills. Again I had no idea why, but until that moment I never thought that I’d take him up on that offer.