"We kill you Outworld pigs!" one of them shouted.
"Burn you house!" Wild eyes, drugged.
"Crush you skull!" Sharp teeth, shaking a stone axe.
"Rape you daughter! Rape you wife!" Spittle flying.
"We cut off you bird!" Jumping up and down, in a trance.
"We eat you! We eat you!" Fade-out. A Systie announcer appeared, a young Outworlder female with a shaven head, calm and cool, dressed in USICOM blue.
"Citizens, please remember the Originals' righteous wrath is amply justified by their experience. Remember, the historically oppressed are fully protected under our laws. Race crimes against the oppressed will be vigorously prosecuted by the full force of the System. All allegations of elitist thought crime will be reported to the Federal authorities, and appropriate measures taken against the perpetrators. We cannot and will not permit crime against our egalitarian ideals. Remember—we are all equal under law, and the oppressed receive special protection.
"Next, local news; the death toll rises as major protests against police violence cause mass evacuations from Point Barrow."
"This really is a strange place," Dragon commented.
"The System is doomed." I said. "The O's are on their way here—now. There's no defense—and they continue bickering about their social problems. Wait until the first Omni ship touches down. Then they'll see some real social problems."
###
"ProScan." A female voice, bright and alert.
"We're sorry—wrong number." I clicked off. Our comset bypassed all the local controls—we could safely call anyone from our own hotel room with no danger of the call being traced back to us.
"ProScan is still there," I said. The suppressor was on. Dragon and Priestess were looking over some detailed maps of the area on their d-screens. One screen was flashing short-term rental properties. The market was down, and there was a lot available. We were going after Biergart first, then Mitomass, and finally the Government. However, we knew we had to approach Biergart with great caution. If the Systies had Whit, they would probably know about the infolink deal and could have Biergart and ProScan under surveillance. But it was just possible they didn't have her. So we would start with Biergart.
"How about this place here?" Priestess asked. A villa in the clouds, surrounded by forested hills. A huge terrace, spectacular view, stunning interior, warm and spacious. Razorwire fences to keep out the scum, a modern security system to guard the air.
"Looks good," I said.
"Looks very good," Dragon said.
"A bit pricey," Priestess commented.
"Regulus Octo can afford it," I reminded her.
"All right," she said. "Secretary, rent it. For a wealthy client who wants privacy. Rent it for a month." Priestess was getting a bit carried away with her role.
"Yes, Lady! As it commands."
"Now let's check out that Multimall," she ordered.
"Immediately, Majesty," Dragon replied.
"Oh, Shut down, will you! And turn off the suppressor."
###
We took to spending several hours at the Multimall every day. Lady Arbell would shop in the snob outlets, buying scandalously expensive and totally ghastly outfits presented by simpering sexboys, and later dine with her secretary—me—in outrageously pricey dox houses, with charmingly attentive fems serving exotic dishes from far-off worlds. It was a nice place, especially if you had the security to deal with the beggars and thieves that haunted the area. All the shops had armed guards.
Anyone following us would have noted that Lady Arbell's security goon hung around the underground aircar bay a lot, watching over her rented aircar. Sometimes he and the Lady's male secretary had drinks together or wandered through the malls while the Lady was shopping. The Lady did have a few appointments with high-powered investment bankers and Federal Chamber of Commerce officials who put on quite a show for her. But mostly, she shopped.
We didn't notice any surveillance, but that didn't mean much. ProScan's offices were located in the Multimall, on the 19th floor of one of the office towers. We didn't approach it directly, but on the third day we spotted Biergart in the aircar bay, arriving by car in mid-morning. He had an Original driver. After four more days, we were familiar with his routine and knew his aircar, his driver, his residence, and his route home. On the next day we were ready.
Biergart was later than usual leaving the office. Dragon and I were in the aircar bay sitting in the car, ostensibly waiting for our employer. Biergart hustled out of the elevator, looking around him, a doc case in one hand. He was heavy and balding, with shifty eyes and fat jowls. He wore a business suit. His driver was waiting, a somewhat large Original, oily hair and a scraggly mustache, wearing an uncomfortable-looking driver's outfit. There was a bulge in the front right pocket of his jacket that was probably a vac gun. He triggered the door of the aircar open for Biergart, then slipped behind the controls. It was obvious the car was armored.
We waited a few marks after they left the bay, then slid out into the weak sunlight and onto his route. In moments, we were out of town. He lived in a residential center about eighty K from the city.
"I've got him—he's up ahead." Dragon was driving.
"Keep this distance and altitude. This is about right."
We were so far behind him there was no way he would suspect he was being followed. A light mist hit the plex. The sky was darkening.
"Nobody else ahead…"
"Great!"
"Doesn't look like anybody behind us heading this way."
"I guess we go with it."
"He's over the forest." I hit the side window and it slid open. An icy wet breeze shot through the car. I leaned out with the vac gun. I had loaded a mini heat-seeker probe with a contac tip. We had lots of contac. I fired when I acquired the target. Then we sat back to watch the fun. We were still a long way behind and it took several fracs for the probe to hit.
"He's going down."
"Right in the forest."
"Good shooting!" The contac would have exploded inside an exhaust vent, causing the engine to cut off immediately. The aircar's occupants may have heard a sharp pop but would have no way of knowing they were under attack.
Dragon dropped our altitude quickly. The forest came at us, stark and grey. With luck, they would be out of the car when we arrived. Otherwise, we were going to have to use the can-openers, and that would be noisy and messy.
We approached just over the tree-tops. We were hoping their instruments were all out—that normally happened with full engine failure on commercial aircars. It was quite a forest. We had reconned the area thoroughly in the last few days, ostensibly on our way to and from rental properties, and had found not a sign of life. Now the nearest aircar traffic was several K away. Nobody appeared to be paying any attention to us.
"They're down."
"Let's do it." Dragon dropped the aircar down below tree-top level. Trees flashed past wreathed in mist, leaves and branches exploding against our metal skin. Reducing speed now, just a faint whistle, the occasional branch snapping off to splinters. Closer, closer, right up ahead now. I leaned out the window with the vac gun. Cold rain stung my face.
They appeared suddenly out of the mist, a mud-splattered aircar parked incongruously in a field of shattered branches, surrounded by tall grim trees. The engine compartment was open. The driver turned suddenly to face us, his face going pale. Biergart was frozen for an instant by his side, then lunged for the open aircar door. I fired at Biergart first to prevent him from getting inside the car. He bounced off the aircar, spraying water, and fell to the mud. Back to the driver—I fired just as he was raising his weapon in a perfect two-handed stance, both feet planted solidly. Vac bolts flashed against his chest, knocking him over backwards.