They sent the Red-Eyed Killer to handle the situation. The result was something I didn’t like to think about. New Haven shylocks tend to be on the gory side when they make examples. Danny the Daisy was Natasha’s uncle, and normally would have handled the situation before it got out of hand. Unfortunately, he was out of New Haven chasing a tag at the time.
I happened to be on good terms with Natasha’s folks. They had went out of their way to look out for me in rough times, which was a rare kind of thing in this town. I took care of the Red-Eyed Killer myself. I was too late for Natasha’s folks, but at least she didn’t have to worry about any triggermen showing up at her door to finish the job. Because I made it my business to put the whole lot of them in New Haven trench coats.
Since then Natasha’s pretty much lived in her own world. The trauma of losing her parents was too much for a persona already on the sensitive side. I’m not sure if she remembers that day or not. Folks say she’s a few eggs shy from a full carton, but for some reason she makes perfect sense to me.
I let her pull me into her room. To say the place was cluttered is like saying it rains hard in a megastorm. She made a living selling uniquely designed arts and crafts. Heaps of her work was strewn across the place like an artistic tornado blew through. Whatever she had lost in mental equilibrium had opened a floodgate of unique creativity.
Half the high hats in New Haven have her signature work in their ritzy pads. I’m pretty sure they’d have pulled a number of fast ones on her as far as payment, but luckily for her the ol’ Troubleshooter hooked her up with a master accountant who handles the business end for her, including the income from the building she inherited. Seeing how her accountant is an android, Natasha doesn’t ever have to worry about being chiseled out of her profits.
I tipped my Bogart. “Hey, doll. Hate to creep in on you like this, but I got a feeling a few droppers might have a special surprise for me in my pad. Not that I don’t like a party. I just wanna be ready for the dance if you know what I mean.”
Her gray eyes narrowed. “I don’t like your new friends, Mick Trubble. All they do is curse and puff chimney smoke. It creeps through the walls like hazy dreams.”
“Well, a man has to have a vice or he’ll go gonzo, darlin’. I smoke a gasper now and then too, you know.”
“Yeah, but your smell is you.” She patted my chest. “I like your smell. They smell like bad ideas.”
“You know how many?”
She solemnly nodded. “Twenty, maybe. Or five. Or maybe ten.”
“Gotcha. Look, you may wanna turn your box up. I got a feeling the thunder is gonna get pretty loud in a minute.”
Her ebony tresses flailed around her face as she shook her head. “I don’t like the picjector. It statics my thoughts too much.”
“Ok, just stay put though. If you hear gunfire, hightail your getaway sticks outta here. Don’t want that pretty body getting in the way of a stray slug.”
She kissed my cheek and put a flower in the band of my Bogart. “Play nice, Mick Trubble.”
“I always do.”
As I crossed the hallway, I tried to think of a way to get inside without getting plugged as a result. I figured I’d exercise the better part of valor.
I knocked.
“Who is there?” Voice was muffled, but the accent sounded distinctly Russian. Figured.
“Pizza delivery.”
There was a long pause.
“I do not think you deliver pizza. No one here has ordered.”
I sighed. “Well, looks like you outsmarted me, boys. Mind if I step in my own pad?”
More silence. I imagined a frantic conference inside.
“If that is you, Mick Trubble… open door slow. We want to talk. No guns, or we shoot first.”
“Sounds good to me, boys.”
I opened the door to a view of a loaded scattergun. I figured since my brains were still in my skull, maybe they did want to talk. The hollow-eyed Ruskie peering down the sights was a gangly scarecrow in bad rags. His partner was almost as big as the gorillas at the Fortress. After roughly searching me for heat, he yanked me inside.
“We have message from the Goryachevas,” the scarecrow said. I figured his partner wasn’t getting paid for his linguistic skills. “No more time for you. You will make payment tonight, or you come with us for slow killing. Your choice.”
“You forgot about the third option.” I gave him a devilish grin.
Confusion flickered in his sleep-deprived eyes right before a perfectly aimed slug carved a peephole through his forehead. As his partner moved for his holster, I spun and took him out with a heavy chop to the throat.
At least that was the plan. Truth was, I missed and hit him on the clavicle instead, causing all kinds of pain to my hand. He snarled and wrapped his beefy mitts around my neck. We danced a clumsy tango around the room as I tried to unlock his vice grip. It didn’t go so well. I was seeing stars and planets by the time a second slug stopped him cold. He exhaled toxic fumes in my face as his grip finally loosened. I toppled to the floor, gasping for breath.
While the room span dizzily I placed a hand on the datacom in my ear. “Nice shooting,” I managed to croak. “Course it would’ve been even better if you’d done it before I got throttled.”
“Never satisfied.” Rob’s voice sounded amused even over the line. “Took a while for me to triangulate the X-Ray scope. I don’t use these mech rifles that often. It took even longer to knock over this triggerman I almost ran into. Figured you’d handle it until then.”
I had the Cowboy stationed on the roof of the adjacent building to even the odds. Good thing his reputation was as good as advertised. I snatched up my reserve smokes and extra flask before tossing back the mattress to access what I came for.
I don’t take much stock in heavy mech weapons, but in certain circumstances a regular slug just won’t do the trick. That’s when the Magic Dragon comes in handy. I’d won it in a hot hand of poker a while back. I could’ve sold it for a pretty sum, but against my massive debt it wouldn’t have mattered. Considering my circumstances, I figured it would be handier than the extra berries.
Specially modified mech-rifle with electromagnetic rounds which can take out a standard floater with a single shot. And just to piss people off, I had a nano-charge added. Usually only a synoid can handle that kind of firepower without dislocating a body part, but Hunter Valentino customized it to suit my physicality. Clumsy when compared to the precision of the Mean Ol’ Broad, but I figured storming Tommy’s hideout was gonna present a lot of bodies.
Precision wasn’t exactly necessary.
A stray thought hit me before I walked out the door. I checked the holoband on the scrawny goon’s arm. Fortunately he was still warm enough to keep it activated. And dumb enough not to require a pass code. I swiped through his list of contacts until I found the one I needed. Synching it to my own holoband, I made the call.
“Hello? This is Mick Trubble. Right, the same one you tried to rub out with an ambush at home. Listen, the point of this call is I need to gab with your boss. Madame Goryacheva. I got something to tell her she needs to hear.”
Chapter 14: The Hideout
I made sure Natasha was all right and called a cleanup crew before taking the skywalk over to where Rob and Poddar waited on the opposite building. The rain had faded to a light sprinkle, causing the rooftops to steam from the humidity. A stiff lay at their feet with a smoking cavity in his chest.
“Lookee here.” Rob grinned. “Mick Trubble, all in one piece. Nice flower. You trying to give the Daisy a run for his money?”