Hector chuckled. “Very good. Let’s.”
“Now, you want my sales skills, my ability to close the hard deals. I’ve never been a big fan of the public sector, though. Not enough money in it. You know it. I know it. So what is this ‘opportunity’ you keep talking about?”
“Well, this isn’t the usual sort of public sector job I’m offering,” Hector said slyly. “I assure you, I can offer you a contract that is more than competitive with anything the private sector has to offer. Plus, as an added incentive,” Hector paused to pull a suitcase out from behind the filing cabinets, “two percent of these,” he popped the lid to show that the case was full of Double-Ns. “Mister, uh… Mister…?”
I could see the tickets twitching. They were the genuine article, which meant Hector was ready to be netted. I pulled my gun and pointed it at his face.
“The name’s Calavera,” I said, “and I want a bigger cut.”
Hector looked thrown, but only for a fraction of a second. He knew how to keep his cool. He laughed with only a trace of nervousness. “Oh, but Mr. Calavera,” he said, “I’m going to need most of these to get myself out of this world. You see, I’ve been a very bad boy!” He laughed again and closed the case. He glanced toward the windows, which I took to be another sign of nervousness.
I held out my free hand. “I’m going to deliver those to their rightful owners, and I’m going to deliver you to the compost pile.”
“Are you, now?” he asked archly.
There was a crash as a raven flew through a window. I fired and the bird was a bouquet by the time it hit the carpet.
Hector was out the door and running down the hall. He had the suitcase. I followed. He got to the end of the hall and turned toward the elevator. I took aim and squeezed off another shot. I missed, the dart pinging off the elevator door, and Hector spun around and dashed into Don’s old office. He was pretty quick for such a lard bucket.
I chased after him. The office was empty, but there was a window open. I cautiously went out onto the fire escape. There was no sign of Hector, but I heard a loud clattering from below. I leaned out over the railing and saw Hector awkwardly climbing down with the case in one hand. I fired and missed again. Hector tried to descend faster. I went down myself a ways, then leaned out and shot again. And again missed. I guess I just got lucky with the raven.
It kept going on like that. Hector stumbled his way down while I followed, taking occasional potshots. I had to put a new clip in the gun about a third of the way down. And another two-thirds down. I was really a lousy shot, but Hector was getting more and more panicked. He had to be figuring that with all the rounds flying past him, the odds were that one had to hit him eventually. Or maybe he thought I was just playing with him before I sprouted him. He tried to pick up his pace with each bang I made, but the faster he moved the more he stumbled. Helping me out was the fact that he only had two hands, with one reserved for the case and the other needed to help him stay on his feet. So as long as I kept the heat on, whatever gun he had remained salted away.
When Hector got to the bottom of the fire escape—only the ladder remaining—I got a little panicky myself. This looked like my last chance. So as Hector started lowering the ladder, I began to empty my gun, hoping to bring him down by filling the air with a lot of rounds at once. I didn’t hit Hector, but I did hit the suitcase and the ladder. He recoiled from each impact, lost his grip on both suitcase and ladder, and fell into the alley. The suitcase stayed on the fire escape. Hector took off.
Well, I got part of what I was after. I picked up the suitcase and dropped into the alley myself. I found a pay phone and made two calls: one to get a message to Eva and the second for a cab.
Taken for a Ride
Meche and Glottis were waiting for me at the train station. I paid the cabbie.
“You got him?” Glottis asked when the cab had driven off.
“No, he got away. But he dropped this.” I put the case down at Meche’s feet and opened it. The tickets twitched and one leapt up Meche’s legs, under her dress, and out one sleeve into her hand. She was pretty startled.
“That one must be yours,” I observed dryly, shutting the case again. I stood and held it out for her to take.
“Manny…” she began.
“No, don’t say it. You have a train to catch.”
Meche said it anyway. “I don’t want to leave you! Not like this!”
“You’re the only one who can get on that train,” I pointed out. “If I went with you, the Number Nine would jump it’s tracks, taking both of us—and the tickets—into the pit.”
“But if we took the Bone Wagon—” she began.
“That’d take months,” I told her, “and those people have waited too long already.”
“Yes,” she said, giving up, “you’re right.” She took the case from me and sighed. “Goodbye, Manny. I’m glad you were my travel agent.”
“Me, too, angel,” I said. I gave her a quick hug. Anything longer and I might not have been able to let go. “Have a good trip.”
She walked away quickly, and took the escalator up to the platform.
I turned away.
“You gonna be OK, Manny?” Glottis asked.
“Yeah, sure I will, mano. I just—” I broke off when Meche screamed.
Looking up, we saw Meche at the top of the escalator, fighting off a raven that was trying to snatch the case away from her. Glottis ran toward her and I followed. As I went up two steps at a time, Meche heaved the case in my direction. I caught it, but fell backwards, rolling down the escalator and across the sidewalk to the curb. When I came to a stop, I got to my feet and shook my head to clear it. I looked up at the platform where Glottis had the raven in both hands, trying to tear it apart while it tried to claw out his eyes.
“Run!” I shouted to Meche who was standing helplessly, and uselessly, near the combatants. “Find Salvador!”
A car suddenly came screeching around a corner and squealed to a stop alongside me. I sprang away from the curb, reaching for my gun just in case.
“Get in, quick!” Olivia’s voice said urgently from inside the car.
I jumped in the back, clutching the suitcase, and the car tore away from the station.
I pounded on the back of the front seat. “We were supposed to have coverage back there! Where are all of Salvador’s men?”
“I don’t know,” Olivia said. “He hasn’t told me yet.”
She tossed something white and round into the back seat with me.
“Hola, Manuel,” Salvador’s head said.
That was just the worst.
“Sal—” I began to say.
“No talking,” Olivia ordered. “I have a gun. Which reminds me, unload yours and toss it up here, clip first. And just so you don’t get any cute ideas…” She floored the accelerator and started weaving recklessly around the cars she was passing.
Understanding the consequences of shooting her, I did what she said.
“Who’s a good boy?” Olivia cooed and slowed the car.
A few minutes later she turned onto a major thoroughfare. I had no idea where we were going and I didn’t dare ask. I looked down at what was left of Salvador. He looked like they’d given him a good working over. His head was cracked and abraded. But what about his body? I looked at Olivia, and figured it out. She had turned Salvador’s trick for saving sprouted agents against him.
Filthy, goddamned whore.
A white spot burned hot inside me, but I wasn’t sure who I was so enraged at: Olivia for betraying my trust, or me for trusting her. So I just glared at the back of her skull as she drove. A couple of minutes later she seemed to fidget in her seat, although maybe that was just my imagination. After a long while of going straight, she turned onto the freeway and headed out of town. Then she turned again onto a two-lane highway, and then again onto a roughly-tarmacked road. After about an hour of winding around, Olivia brought the car to a stop. She got out, and pointed her gun at me.