But I wanted to test the water first — see what sort of mood Yokomata was in before dropping by with my little present. My office was closest. Headed there.
The roof of the Verrazano Complex was after-hours quiet at this time of night. I’d carried the box halfway to the downchute when a too-familiar voice stopped me.
"What you got there, Buttonhead?"
Looked to my left and saw Rednose, Fourfingers, and Yokomata's driver standing shoulder to shoulder in front of a luxury Ortega. And sitting with her stumpy legs dangling out its right rear door was Yokomata herself.
Didn't like the looks on their faces — like groundlevel dogs coming upon a wounded cat. Hoped my voice wouldn't squeak.
"Just going to call you!" I said to Yokomata, ignoring Rednose.
"Really?" she said. "Whatever for?"
"Found Barkham. Wanted to collect my bounty." I hefted the box. "Found this, too. Figured you were looking for it."
"There wouldn't happen to be some statues of Joey Jose in there, would there? I'm terribly fond of his humor."
"So am I," I said, trying to keep the conversation light. "Was hoping you'd let me keep one of the statues as a reward for returning all forty of them — a total of twenty kilos of weight."
The heavies stirred at mention of the weight.
"Think of all the buttons you could buy with that, Buttonhead," Rednose said.
Yokomata continued: "And you were in the process of delivering it to me, weren't you?" Her tone was ominous.
"Of course."
"Strange. It appeared to me that you were going to your office."
"Going to call first."
Her smile would have looked at home on the face of her pet tyrannosaurus. "How polite. By the way, how was my trusted associate, Mr. Barkham, when you found him?"
Her smile broadened as I described his final circumstances.
Then she said, "Put the box down."
"And put your hands over your head," said Rednose.
Did as I was told and when I straightened up I saw the three of them had blasters out and pointed at my midsection.
"No sudden moves," Fourfingers said.
Rednose stepped forward, a smirk on his face. At first I thought he had a blaster in each hand, then I saw the one in his left was the dose gun, the one loaded with Truth.
"I don't think we have to worry about Buttonhead, here. He doesn't carry. Do you, Buttonhead?"
He did a quick frisk of my flanks and found nothing.
"Satisfied?"
"Not quite. First thing we do right now is make sure you're telling the truth about Kel. After that, maybe it'll be interesting to try what The Man From Mars did to Kel on you."
He raised the dose gun. Had to move now or maybe lose my chance forever, so I joined the two contacts on the outer aspect of each of my wrists. The front of my jumpsuit exploded as a staccato series of bluefire energy bolts sprayed out in a horizontal arc, riddling the three — Rednose first and then the pair behind him — sending them twisting, spinning, writhing to the roof surface.
Yanked my wrists apart — seemed they'd been joined for minutes but it had only been a matter of a heartbeat or two — and started toward Yokomata's Ortega. Couldn't see much, what with the dark, the meaty-smelling steam rising from the corpses, the smoke from my scorched jump front, and the blotchy afterimages of bolts from the chest zapper.
My foot struck something and it skittered in front of me with a metallic scrape. Without slowing I stooped and picked it up: somebody's blaster. Dimly saw Yokomata ahead of me, moving within the frame of her flitter door. She could have been trying to get away or reaching for a blaster of her own. Took no chances. Fired off a bolt into the air and shouted.
"Not another move, lady!"
She froze and glared at me as I came up to her. She was unarmed.
Had her.
Bloaty. What was I going to do with her?
— 12-
We were airborne, riding low over the sluggish surface of the East River. Dydeetown's rectangle of red lights sparkled on our left. The flitter was on slow autocruise which would keep it moving along the present traffic lane at a leisurely pace. Yokomata sat stiffly in the other front seat. Behind us the corpses of her three dead thugs lay in the rear section where I had forced her to toss them.
Felt strangely calm about killing them. Never killed before, but for the life of me I couldn't dredge up any remorse. Self defense and various other sorts of dreck, but to be frank, it seemed like the chest zapper had done it, not me. Felt removed from the whole incident. And if I wanted to dig way down into my gut, I was glad they were dead — especially Rednose.
Sat facing Yokomata now, blaster in hand, the Truth dose gun on my lap.
A bad situation all the way around. Wasn't sure how to get out of it, so I'd been talking to her in a matter-of-fact tone, playing it by ear, but to no avail. She hadn't uttered a word since I'd cut loose with my chest zapper. Had to break her down some if I was going to get anywhere. And then it occurred to me how.
"What's your procedure for unwanted bodies?"
No reply.
I shrugged and gestured toward the rear door with the barrel of my blaster.
"Then we'll improvise. Get back there and toss one of them into the river. Then we'll find a deserted spot in Brooklyn for the second, and in Manhattan for the third."
"Don't be an idiot!" she said.
Contact.
Figured the last thing she wanted — next to being blasted herself — was to have the bodies of her toughies all over Central Bosyorkington.
"Got a better idea?"
She gave me a level stare. "You saw a demonstration in my yard yesterday."
The dinosaur! Forgot all about that. The perfect garbage disposal.
Told the console, "Home at max."
The Ortega rose toward the upper lanes with a lurch and soon we were streaking northwest.
"Now," I said to her, "let's talk some business. I'm willing to forget your attempted doublecross back on the roof. You forget your three dead men, and we'll start off even again."
She said nothing, merely stared at me with those reptilian eyes.
Gestured to the sack of gold statuettes on the floor between us. "In return for finding your money and getting it to you, I expect a ten percent reward. Add that to what you owe me for finding Barkham dead, and we can round t off to five of the statuettes. We part friends, both of us richer."
She continued to stare at me and I began to get worried. Did not want Yokomata for an enemy. She had a reputation for holding a grudge. Would spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, waiting for my head to get vaporized.
"Sounds reasonable," she said, finally.
Hid my relief. And my elation. Would have let her haggle me down to two statues
Stuck out my hand. She took and shook.
"Deal."
We made small talk the rest of the trip. She seemed particularly interested in the manner of Barkham's death. Had a feeling she’d’ve liked to have been there to see it herself. She seemed relaxed and affable, but I detected something ugly beneath the surface.
And then the flitter stopped: We were over the Yokomata estate, somewhere between the wall and the softly glowing Taj Mahal holo enveloping her house. All was dark below.
As Yokomata looked out the window on her left, I picked up the dose gun on my lap and gave her a good air-propelled shot of Truth in her upper arm, right through the fabric of her blouse.