His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. The cheroot fell from his mouth onto the chest of his shirt.
She dropped the black purse from her other hand, which now held a small stubby pistol with no muzzle aperture. She spat out the fake teeth; they bounced on the printed-circuit rug.
“Hello, Cenuij,” she said.
“Sha-!” he had time to gasp, before the gun in her hand buzzed, his eyes closed and he went limp, sliding slowly off the couch onto the floor.
She sniffed, wondering what was burning, then took two quick steps towards him and removed the cheroot from the hole in his shirt before it burned any more of his chest hair.
He woke to the sound of spattering rain; he was sitting slumped in the rear seat of a tall All-Terrain and it was dark outside. Sharrow sat opposite him. His whole body was tingling, his head was sore and he didn’t think it wise to try speaking for a while; he looked around groggily.
Through rain-streaked glass to the right he could see a giant open-cast mine lit by dotted lights. The mine had eaten away half of an enormous conical hill and was continuing to shave away the other half. Looking carefully, he could make out a motley collection of trucks, draglines and lines of people with shovels, all working the canted grey face of the floodlit, sectioned hill. At least he wasn’t having trouble focusing.
“Cenuij?” she said.
He looked at her. He decided to try speaking.
“What?” he said. His mouth seemed to be working all right. Good sign. He flexed the tingling muscles in his face.
Sharrow frowned. “Are you okay?”
“She fries my synapses with a neurostunner whose insurance warranty ran out around the time of the Skytube, then she asks if I’m okay,” he said, attempting to laugh but coughing instead.
Sharrow poured something brown and fragrant from a flask into a cup; he took it and smelled spirit; he sipped at it, then knocked it back, smacking his lips. He almost threw it up again immediately, but held it down and felt it warm him.
“You once told me,” she said, “that if you had to be knocked unconscious, that’s the way you’d like it done, with one of those.”
“I remember,” he said. “It was the morning after Miz nearly rammed that Tax destroyer. We were in a tavern in Malishu and you were whining about your hangover; you wore a low-cut green scoopneck and Miz had left a line of lovebites like footprints leading down your left tit. But I didn’t think you’d treat an innocent observation as a definite request.”
“As you see,” Sharrow grinned, “the stunner has totally scrambled that perfect memory.”
“Just testing,” Cenuij said.
He stretched. He didn’t seem to be tied up in any way, and Sharrow wasn’t holding the stun gun.
“Anyway,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“Indeed. I can see contrition oozing from your every pore.”
She nodded towards the open-cast mine. “Know where we are?”
“Mine Seven; a little west of the city perimeter road.” He rubbed at his leg muscles; they still felt tingly and weak.
“We’re right on the city limits,” Sharrow said. She nodded. “I step out that door and I’m outside the jurisdiction; you step out your side and you’re back in Lip City.”
“What are you trying to do, Sharrow? Impress me with your navigational skills?”
“I’m giving you a choice; asking you to come with me… but if you won’t, I’m letting you go.”
“You kidnap me first, then you ask me?” Cenuij shook his head. “Retirement’s addled your brains.”
“Dammit, Cenuij! I didn’t mean to snatch you; I just wanted to get to you. But that enthusiast with the stun-net rattled me. I wanted to get us both out of there.”
“Well, congratulations,” he said. “What a spiffing plan.”
“All right,” she said, raising her voice. “What was I supposed to do?” She got her voice under control again. “Would you have listened to me? If I’d tried to contact you; would you have given me the time to say anything?”
“No; I’d have switched off the instant I knew it was you.”
“And if I’d written?”
“Same. Switched the screen off or torn the letter up, accordingly.” He nodded quickly. “And if you’d approached me in the street I’d have walked away; run away; hailed a cab; jumped on a trolley; told a policeman who you were; anything. In fact, all the things I intend to do right now, or at least as soon as my legs feel like they’ll work again.”
“So what was I supposed to do, you awkward bastard?” Sharrow shouted, leaning forward at him.
“Leave me a-fucking-lone, that’s what!” he roared back into her face.
They glowered at each other, nose to nose. Then she sat back in the seat, looking out at the darkness on the other side of the car. He sat back too.
“The Huhsz are after me,” she said quietly, not looking at him. “Or they will be, very soon. With a Hunting Passport. A legal execution warrant-”
“I know what a Hunting Passport is,” he snapped.
“They might try using you to get to me, Cenuij.”
“Sharrow; can’t you get it through those artfully wanton black curls that I want nothing to do with you? I won’t indulge in some pathetic, nostalgic attempt to get us all back together again and be pals and pretend nothing bad ever happened-just in case that’s what’s on your mind-but equally I assure you I have no interest whatsoever trying to help the Huhsz second guess your every action; that would be almost as bad as actually being in your company.”
Sharrow looked like she was trying to control herself, then suddenly sat forward again. “Nothing to do with me? So why are you fucking the only whore in Lip City who could pass for my clone?”
“I don’t fuck her, Sharrow,” Cenuij said, looking genuinely surprised. “I just enjoy humiliating her!” He laughed. “And anyway, she’s rather better looking than you are.” He smiled. “Apart from that unfortunate eight-year-old radiation burn. I wonder how the poor girl got that?”
“Cenuij-”
“And where’s she? The real girl? What have you done with her?”
Sharrow waved one hand. “Teel’s fine; she’s spaced on Zonk watching screen from the whirlbath in a hotel suite. She’s having a great night.”
“She’d better be,” Cenuij said.
“Oh! You enjoy humiliating her but now you’re all concerned for her well-being.” She sneered back. “Make sense, Cenuij.”
He smiled. “I am. But you wouldn’t understand.”
“And what sort of weird kick do you get from humiliating her anyway?”
Cenuij shrugged languidly. “Call it revenge.”
Sharrow sat back again, shaking her head. “Shit, you’re sick.”
“I’m sick?” Cenuij laughed. He crossed his arms and gazed up at the car’s ceiling lining. “She murders four hundred and sixty-eight thousand people and she calls me sick!”
“Oh, for the last fucking time,” she shouted. “I didn’t know they were going to start hacking the Gun to bits in the goddamn city!”
“You should have known!” he shouted back. “That’s where their labs were! That’s where they announced they were going to dismantle the damn thing!”
“I thought they meant the lab in the desert! I didn’t know they’d do it in the city!”
“You should have guessed!”
“I couldn’t believe anybody would be that stupid!”
“When have they ever been anything else?” Cenuij roared. “You should have guessed!”
“Well, I just fucking didn’t!” Sharrow yelled. She sat back, sniffing mightily.
Cenuij sat silently, massaging his legs.
Eventually Sharrow said, “That was probably some contract hunter with the net-gun tonight. If they’d succeeded you’d be in a Huhsz satrapy by dawn, all wired and juiced up so you’d have no fucking choice but to tell them what I was going to do next.”