"As you wish.” We blasted out of the garage into sheets of rain.
A few skimmers hummed silently over the road, making the rain the only real noise besides Maxine’s smooth purring. Decent folks in the Flats take the Skytram, or hop on the massive air zeppelins. It’s safer. But there were a lot more evil eyes in the air. I try to avoid being shutterbugged as much as possible. The floating cameras don’t drift down to the surface too often. A lot of goons shoot them down at first sight. It’s just not worth the cost to catch a few scumbags sniping each other in the alleys.
The sky glowed like daylight from the skylights and overhead traffic. Airlanes crisscrossed one another as automated systems directed the floaters with digital precision, while even higher up the iron zeppelins eclipsed all of them. There wasn't much light on the road. Gloom surrounded us as we cut through the shadows of colossal buildings occupied mostly by squatters. Guess the suits in City Hall figured that there was no point in wasting energy on the disadvantaged.
As the tires gripped the wet asphalt, I wondered how I was gonna get through my current dilemma without getting clipped in the process. I tipped my flask back and let that Wild Turkey flutter. It was the hazy time of day right before evening when the sun paints the sky different shades of red. I didn’t like it. Reminded me too much of blood.
Poddar noticed my actions and frowned. “Isn’t this going to be hard enough without drinking? I know this heap is on autodrive, but eventually you’re going to have to get out. Being able to stand up straight would be helpful.”
“Listen Ace, if I wanted to be nagged to death I would’ve gotten married. Drinking is what real men do to get in the mood for action. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t know a thing about that. So howzabout you close your head and keep your eyes peeled. I think we caught a tail. Maxine?”
Taking evasive action, Mr. Trubble.” She shifted and turned hard. We slid sideways and spun 180 degrees into a public parking lot.
“Engaging camouflage mode.”
Her exterior coat altered to a dull rusty color, blending in perfectly with the other derelict wheelers abandoned there. I killed her eyes.
A few moments later another wheeler cruised by, gleaming in its cherry red coat. It was antique styled as well — looked like a Series 70 shell. It was hard to see in the rain, but I could barely make out a blond dame in the passenger seat. I couldn’t see the driver.
“Friends of yours?” At least Poddar had enough sense to keep his voice low.
“Who can tell?”
“Exactly how many people are after you, anyway?”
“How much time ya got?”
Once the wheeler ghosted down the street, Maxine cranked back up. As soon as their taillights vanished, we peeled off the opposite direction.
“Let’s head Downtown, Maxine.”
The city’s glow had just started to replace the sun as we approached the Downtown section. Floaters zipped across the overhead lanes between buildings, guided by hovering skylights. Downtown grew brighter as we pulled away from the towering shadows.
Leaving the Flats is like turning the page on a book. Downtown buildings are all art deco; ritzy works of classic architecture that wash the moldy taste of the Flats right out of your mind. Bright lights glittered from the windows of joints that never closed.
The covered sidewalks were crammed with residents going about their business or pleasure. Slick dames in furs and feathers. Movers and shakers, hustlers and players. Besides the wallpaper, the only real difference from the Flats was the price of your rags.
I needed information. Tommy was a hard man to find, and rubes that went looking for him usually ended up feeding the fish in the West River. Still, I’ve made a lot of contacts in my time. In a place like New Haven, everyone owes someone a favor. And you’d better bet that one day you’re gonna have to pay up.
I figured it was time to cash in on Rat Face Ronny.
Ronny used to be an informant to the brass until they sold him out to the scum that he dropped dimes on. When he was at the end of his line, he called me. I was able to get him a new life; though not quite so lavish as the one he’d been used to. I knew that he had contacts deep inside. Figured he wouldn’t mind sharing a nugget or two.
Rat Face Ronny earned his bread as a barkeep at a dive called Night Life. Low lights, cheap booze. My kinda joint. After we pushed past a crowd of hustlers, boozehounds and half-drunk chippies, we had to wait on Ronny to show up for his shift. I passed the time by ordering a plate of steak and eggs while I watched the showgirls make a living. The steak was tough as an old boot and half as tasty, but the dames weren’t too hard on the eyes.
“So, Poddar. How’d you end up working for Kilby? That’s a long way from India, ain’t it?”
“I could not provide for my family where I was. The only profitable occupation was Nimrod work, so I took that up for a while.”
I laughed. “You? A Nimrod? Get outta town.”
Poddar worked on a spicy beef curry. “I know that it is not an honorable occupation, but the times were desperate. My work took me from place to place. I met Ms. Kilby on a job, and she recognized my skills. I have worked for her since then.”
“Yeah, I’d guess watching over a dish like her would be a big upgrade over bagging and tagging.”
Poddar’s face was sincere, which was a rare sight in New Haven. “Very much so. Hunting other human beings is a profession that harms the hunter in the long run. I could feel something in myself slipping away. I had to separate from it. There is a saying in my part of the world. ‘jaan hai to jahan jai.’ ‘If there's life, then there's the world.”
I shook my head. “I don’t have a clue what that means.”
A small smile touched Poddar’s face. “It is simple, really. Nothing matters if your life is not happy.”
A short while later Rat Face Ronny showed up at the bar. Poddar sat near the door while I slid over and tapped Ronny on the shoulder. He didn’t seem all that surprised when he turned around.
“Mick Trubble.” His words came out in a nasal whistle through his protruding choppers. “Can’t be seen with you. Word out is that you’re a dead man.” His beady eyes slid back and forth. “Being dead is contagious in this town.”
He was right on that count. Life is cheap in this city, especially when you’re down on your uppers. Happens so often that they have nicknames for dying, like getting fit for a New Haven trench coat. Or catching a case of the New Haven Blues.
I gave him my most easygoing grin. “That’s too bad, Ronny, because I got business with you. Might start by telling me about a cat known as Tommy Tsunami. His whereabouts right about now would be especially helpful.”
“Tommy Tsu—” his shoulders hunched painfully as he lowered his nasally voice. “With all the heat on you already, you’re looking to find Tommy Tsunami?” He shook his head. “If you wanna commit suicide, I got a bean shooter right here that’d do the trick.”
“No need to crack wise, Ronny. All you gotta do is think about where you’d be right now if it hadn’t been for my timely intervention. You were being fit for cement shoes when I hauled your sorry keister out of the fire. You owe me big time, don’t forget that.”
Even his sigh came out as a whistle. “Dammit Mick, I can get clipped for giving up the wire.”
“You can get clipped walking down the street chewing bubble gum.”
“Ok, ok. Fine.” He ran a finger along his elongated nose. “Listen, you didn’t hear this from me, right?”
“Already forgot it.”
“Uh… right.” He leaned in so close that the garlic on his breath made my eyes water. “You’ve heard of the Gaiden, right?”