The cops flattened—and the drone exploded.
“Now, Shuggie!” Wolfe yelled.
Shuggie accelerated, roared down the street, then cut to the left, driving up on the sidewalk. The car bounced and bumped and then he was screeching it across the lawn of the corner house. He turned left, down off the sidewalk, and burned away down the street.
Wolfe looked back. The cops were still flattened in the street. He doubted any of them had gotten the license number—they were too shaken up by the drone attack. Anyway there was no reason they could assume that the car was connected to the drone.
Shuggie cut right at the next corner, veered around several pot-holes, then cut left again. He got on his car’s Bluetooth, and called the address in to his lieutenants so they could keep an eye on the area.
That made Wolfe a little nervous. He never knew for sure what the other Black Viceroys might do.
“Well I got to say, that was interesting,” Shuggie said. “I wouldn’t have wanted to miss that one. Going to be a story to tell. I’m sorry I didn’t get it up on youtube.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Wolfe said. “But—you ever check out SystemLeaks?”
“Sure, a few times.”
“Check it out today. See some interesting files just uploaded there. So—you want to come up to my place, have a glass of Scotch?”
“Sounds good, Wolfe.”
They drove to the crumbling old tenement that housed the Pearce safehouse Wolfe was using. It was starting to snow, a little, as they drove up.
“Doesn’t it ever get serious about snowing around here?” Seline asked when they got out of the car. “I mean, I’m from Georgia, but I thought we were far enough north here…”
“Oh, later in the year,” Shuggie said. “One time we had a blizzard… what the fuck?”
He nodded toward the broken down fence of the tenement… where Detective Tranter was just stepping into view, pointing a gun at Wolfe.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“The drones saw you, Wolfe,” Tranter said. He was about fifty strides away, slowly walking toward them. “Whatever scrambling system you’re using didn’t help you with their cameras. Starling called me. He got your man Shuggie’s car there on ctOS… and we came to meet you. What’s up with this shitty old building you’re headed for? You got a hideout in there?”
“You talk pretty confident, detective, for a man outnumbered and alone,” Shuggie said.
“Oh I’m not either one, gangbanger,” Tranter said. He made a gesture, and four Graywater mercs stepped out from the behind the building, walking up to join him. They were all armed with Mack 10s.
“We didn’t know where you were going after you crashed that drone,” Tranter said, drawing a gun. “But since the street’s blocked off up past this spot and you parked right back over there… Well, we worked it out and here we all are! Now—here’s the deal. You three surrender to me—and we’ll give Shuggie a good deal on a prison term for all that shooting back there. The lady—I can’t say for sure what’ll happen to her. Wolfe, well, maybe he’ll live through it, if he surrenders. Better than dying right here.”
“I’ll think on that,” Shuggie said.
Wolfe had his hand in his coat pocket, was activating the PearcePhone.
He muttered, “Seline, distract them. Non violently.”
He said it just loud enough for Shuggie to hear, too.
She stepped forward, “Stop there, detective, and let’s work out a deal. Otherwise we’re gonna have to open up on you. That bullet proof vest you’re wearing under your coat isn’t going to protect your head.”
Tranter paused, stood his ground. “What the hell are you up to, lady?”
“Just give me one minute. Let’s make a deal, as the man says…”
As she spoke, Tranter was looking toward her, frowning, and Wolfe had the phone out. He transmitted the file he’d set up earlier on Tranter—to everyone within a ten-block distance. Then he sent a text informing everyone who’d received it of Tranter’s whereabouts right now…
“Maybe if you let me and Shuggie go, we could avoid blowing your brains out,” Seline was saying.
“Sound pretty good to me,” Shuggie said.
Wolfe, sending the text, was pretty sure… pretty sure… they were just playing Tranter.
“Hey boss—” It was one of the Graywater Mercs, whom Wolfe recognized from the rooftop gunfight just before he’d swiped the helicopter. “That guy’s screwing around on his phone!”
Tranter turned to Wolfe—and pointed his gun at him. “Drop that phone!. Or you can go down right now. Up to you.”
Wolfe clicked the phone’s sensitive speaker-mic on, so it’d pick up his voice, and dropped it, hoping the case he’d put on it would keep it from breaking. “So I guess if I’m not yet dead, there’s someone who wants to interrogate me…”
He glanced around at the neighborhood. He hoped the Black Viceroys in the area were as close as he’d figured.
“…but the thing is, Tranter,” Wolfe went on, raising his voice so the phone’s speaker device would pick up on it, “…you’re well known for racial profiling. I’ve been looking up your history. And you’ve backed it in the department. And you’re famous for targeting not only blacks… but Black Viceroys. I sent all that data, summarized, out just now. I’ve been saving it… so I think you’re the one who oughta surrender.”
Tranter snorted. “If I hassled Black Viceroys it’s cause they’re gangbanger scum—they specialize in stealing cars, they take protection money from businesses in their turf.”
“Ten percent, that ain’t much,” Shuggie said, sounding reasonable. “How much you take from the Club, Tranter?”
“That’s right,” Wolfe said—loudly. “Tranter’s in with the Club. And the Club’s been moving in on Black Viceroy turf… and now Tranter’s threatening to kill Shuggie!”
“You not aware, Tranter,” Shuggie said, “That I had some of my people move in on this area before we came. And there’s more coming, I’m guessing…”
He looked at Wolfe. Who nodded.
Whistles came, from behind the building. Voices. The sounds of a crowd converging on the area.
Tranter’s eyes widened.
“Down, Seline!” Wolfe shouted, pulling his .45.
“Take ’em out!” Tranter commanded. The Graywater Mercs raised their weapons.
Wolfe threw himself flat beside Seline. Shuggie jumped behind a parked car.
Mack 10s rattled and bullets sucked through the air where Wolfe had been a moment before. Wolfe extended his arm, aimed, fired, all in a second—and one of the Graywater Mercs, shot through the head, fell backward, dead before he hit the ground.
The others quickly fell—shot to pieces, despite their vests, by heavy AR15 fire coming from the left, that tore into their legs and blew off their heads.
Tranter looked desperately around—then ran. But a phalanx of Black Viceroys were coming at him from that direction, walking quickly, in ragged but closed ranks.
Tranter stopped and backed up… then turned and started between the two half-ruined tenement buildings… but from that direction, striding up past the big Black Viceroys tags, came five more Viceroys, pointing their weapons at Tranter.
Tranter dropped his gun, put his hands up, waving his badge. “I’m a police officer! If you harm me, they’ll never stop looking for you!”
Shuggie was up now and walking toward Tranter. “The department gonna do all that for your sorry ass, Tranter?” He laughed.
The encircling Black Viceroys closed in on Tranter…
Wolfe got to his feet, helping Seline up. “Wolfe—they’re beating him! All of them! They’ll kill him!”