Just then, a hand appeared from low down on the doorframe to the office and tossed something into the hallway. The metal object skidded along the floor toward Adam. Recognizing the grenade immediately, Adam took two quick steps back the way he’d came and dove around the corner — just as the grenade exploded.
The heat and concussion threw him over the bar and into the Great Room, where he landed on the back of a soft fabric sofa. He rolled over and came to his feet, then immediately ran back to the hallway. The stone walls had withstood most of the blast, but now the corridor was filled with thick smoke and burning material from the decorations that had lined the walls.
Using the smoke as cover, Adam was at the office doorway in a flash. He dove inside, rolling on this shoulder and coming up on one knee, his ’47 held by both hands at eye level. He quickly scanned the room for any movement, but found none. What he did find were two of Amick’s guards lying dead to his right. And there at the desk, leaning back in his chair, was Seton Amick, his eyes wide open and his jaw slack. A splash of red blood stained his brightly colored shirt, emanating from a level-one bolt-hole burned into the fabric at about mid-chest.
Adam locked his jaw and shook his head. There goes my gravy-train, Adam thought as he looked at the body of his benefactor. And then he noticed the open safe in the wall…
Adam jumped to his feet and ran to it. It was apparent some of the credits had been taken, but Adam’s arrival had cut short the robbery/assassination. Never one to let an opportunity pass him by, Adam began to scoop up stacks of credits and cram them into his satchel. When that was full, he stuffed more into his pockets There came the sound of a slamming door; Adam froze and brought the ’47 to bear on the door to the office. Then he heard the sound of light running, growing fainter as the sprinter added distance.
There was side entrance to the estate not too far from Amick’s office. Adam ran for the exit, just in time to see a thin, dark figure shoot through the open gate of the estate. Adam took off after the dark figure.
The assassin was extremely fast and reached the end of the street just as Adam was passing through the front gate. His cab driver was standing next to his vehicle, watching the assassin dart around the corner to Adam’s right. Adam reached the end of the street only a breath later, just as another vehicle sped off. Turning to the confused driver, Adam shoved him hard in the chest, sending him tumbling over a low stone wall and into a crop of bushes.
“I need to borrow your car,” Adam shouted at him as he slipped into the driver’s seat. He grasped the center joystick and twisted the top toggle to his right as he shoved the stick forward. The transport spun around 180 degrees; Adam corrected the turn and took off after the other vehicle, the whining of the electric motor reverberating throughout the darkening and once-quiet neighborhood.
The other driver was good, weaving in and out of traffic like a NASCAR driver back home. Definitely not a Castorian, Adam thought. In fact, Castorians were notorious for their bad driving habits. Since the subterranean cities were so over-crowed, and their roads clogged with traffic, all of their vehicles were lined with thick rubber bumpers that encircled the entire car. As they drove through traffic, Castorians would continually bounce off one another like some bizarre, over-the-top Disney ride. It didn’t seem to bother the Castorians much, but it sure made weaving through their chaotic traffic a challenge.
The assassin’s car merged onto the main thoroughfare for this section of Krune, bouncing hard off half a dozen vehicles and sending them, in turn, crashing into others. Adam did his best to keep up, but the remnants of the assassin’s passage were piling up exponentially as they proceeded deeper into the traffic.
Finally it happened. Up ahead, Adam saw the assassin’s vehicle fly into the air, turn on its side, then disappear in a mass of flying metal, bodies and smoke. Adam pulled back on the joystick, and his own transport skidded to a stop, but not before slamming broadside into another car. Adam was thrown through the thin glass of the windshield and flew through the air until he contacted the side of the vehicle he’d just hit. Momentarily stunned, he quickly shook off the cobwebs and jumped to his feet. Peering over the tops of the now-stopped traffic — looking like so many dominoes laid helter-skelter in the street — Adam spotted the assassin’s car. It was resting on its side, its wheels still turning and smoke drifting out of the rear motor compartment.
Adam set off for the car, hopping from hood to hood in the stalled traffic, MK-47 held tightly in his right hand. He arrived moments later and shoved the barrel of his weapon through the open window. The vehicle was empty.
Standing tall on the side of the car, Adam scanned the road and sidewalks in front of him. There! A disturbance on the pedestrian sidewalk, as aliens of all shapes and sizes were being thrown out of the way as the assassin barreled through the crowd. Then the disturbance stopped where a side alley intersected the main road.
Adam took off again, making excellent time hopping from car hood to car hood. Then he jumped, clearing the crush of screaming and upset alien pedestrians, and landed softly on the surface of the near-deserted alley.
Then a gaggle of upset creatures entered the alleyway behind him, but they quickly retreated when they spotted Adam’s MK-47.
Soon he was alone in the darkening alleyway. The street was about fifty meters long, ending as it intersected with another road; on each side of it were numerous dumpsters, crates, boxes and more — just as you would expect to see in any side alley on Earth.
Adam ducked behind a dumpster and listened for any movement. All was quiet, or as much as he could tell through the din of chaotic street noise filtering in from behind him. He moved further down the alley. He knew his reactions were quite a bit faster than any alien he’d yet encountered, but still, he could never be sure. Somewhere there had to be something that was faster.
Then he sensed a movement behind him. As he turned he felt a crushing blow strike the back of his head as splintered wood flew past his line of sight. He fell forward, hitting hard on the stone surface of the alley. Then a strong hand grasped his right shoulder and flipped him over. Still in a daze, Adam felt someone mount him, just as the warm barrel of a bolt launcher was shoved against his chin, just under the face mask.
His vision cleared, and he stared up at the creature straddling him. It, too, wore a full-face mask, but in the darkness of the alley, he could not see through the lens.
But then he felt the assassin tremble. The creature reached forward suddenly with its free hand and ripped off Adam’s mask. The effect was immediate. The creature recoiled as if hit by a bolt, and then it slowly began to pull the weapon from his chin. Next it slid off of him and stood in the middle of the alley — while lowering its weapon. Next, the creature reached up and slipped off its own face mask.
It was the face of a Human woman!
Adam lay in stunned disbelief for what seemed like an eternity, until the woman reached down and recovered his MK-47 and helped him to his feet. She handed him the weapon and then took a quick look around the alley. Behind them was the chaos and confusion of the main road they had caused moments before. At the other end of the alley was a more tranquil street setting.
Taking him by the hand, the woman pulled him along with her toward the street. Once there, she stopped and scanned the road. There, on the other side and about halfway down the block, her gaze focused on a Rest Facility — like a hotel on Earth — and she set off for it, pulling him along with her as she raced toward the building.
Adam still couldn’t read alien very well, but he was able to recognize certain phrases. He could make out the lighted sign outside the entrance indicating Pressurized Rooms and Atmosphere Control. Then still without a word, and holding his hand firmly in hers, the woman entered the hotel, pulled a chip of credits out of a pocket and slammed it down on the counter.