"It is there," Comet Nose insisted.
"Yes, I can tell," Bhatami said with only a touch of sarcasm. Closing and sealing the box, he moved the middle box of the top layer aside and opened the box directly beneath it. Still more brandy. "Thank you, Rebekah," he said, closing and sealing the box and replacing the one he'd moved. "Were you wanting to leave right now?"
"Yes, as soon as I can," Rebekah said. "What about Mr. Donaldson?"
"I'm afraid Mr. Donaldson will have to stay with us for a little longer," Bhatami said. "But you and Bayta can go ahead and load your things aboard her torchyacht if you'd like."
"No!" Comet Nose barked. All the work he'd gone to in order to get his coral and Rebekah's boxes together, and now here they were about to slip out of his grasp. "I protest! You must not allow her to leave."
"Hussin, go get a cart from the port building, will you?" Bhatami ordered one of the cops, ignoring the Filly's outburst.
The cop nodded and headed for the building. He might as well not have bothered. The Customs official had been standing by the open door, clearly eavesdropping on the unfolding drama, and as Officer Hussin detached himself from the group of cops, the younger man ducked back inside and snared one of the three transport carts lined up against the wall. He met Hussin halfway to our group, and as they moved the cart together toward the car I could swear they were actually vying with each other as to which of them was doing the better job. Everyone on New Tigris, apparently, was Rebekah's friend.
Almost everyone, anyway. "Officer Bhatami, I protest," Comet Nose said again as the two men maneuvered the cart to the rear of the car and started loading the boxes onto it. He was right in Bhatami's face now, his voice rising in pitch and increasing in volume. "I intend to lodge a formal complaint with the Filiaelian Assembly—"
And then, one of the cops standing near the front of the van gave a little choke and collapsed onto the ground.
THIRTEEN :
"Incoming!" I barked as the cop next to him also dropped into a heap. The other cops were already on it, snatching out their own guns, their heads jerking back and forth as they searched for the shooter. Beside me, Comet Nose slammed the back of one hand across Bhatami's face as he made a grab for the lieutenant's holstered gun with the other.
Bhatami got there first, and for a second the two of them struggled for the weapon before my double kick into the Filly's knee and low ribs sent him sprawling to the pavement. "Get out of here!" I snapped at the Customs official, crouched frozen at the rear of the car, his eyes wide. "Get them inside."
The official shifted his goggle eyes toward me as a barrage of gunfire erupted from the remaining cops, concentrated on the two autocabs in the shelter fifty meters ahead of us. "I said move!" I ordered again.
"You heard him," Bayta urged, taking the Customs man's arm. The kwi, I saw, was already in place on her other hand.
"Come on, Mr. Elfol," Rebekah said encouragingly, getting a grip on the cart's bar. "I'll help you push."
The man seemed to snap out of his stunned trance. "Okay," he managed. With Rebekah beside him, he shoved off from the car, pushing for all he was worth.
"Wait a second," I called as Bayta started to follow. "Where's Karim?"
"I don't know," she said. "He said he was going to go find a flanking position. He hadn't returned when Rebekah said we needed to come stop them from arresting you."
I swore under my breath. If I'd known Rebekah was going to go all noble that way, I would never have left my phone on for them to listen to.
On the other hand, if she hadn't insisted on coming to my rescue, all the cops would probably have left when they arrested me, leaving her, Bayta, and Karim to face the Filly shooter alone. "Just get her into the ship and seal up," I told Bayta. "They'll need something stronger than handguns to get through a torchyacht hull."
She nodded and headed off after the other two, sweeping the autocab shelter with the kwi as she ran. The shooter was almost certainly out of the kwi's limited range, I knew, but it couldn't hurt to try.
I returned my attention to the main event, to find that two more cops had gone down for the count. So far, fortunately, the shooter seemed to be sticking with snoozers. I wondered if and when that would change.
"Hold still," Bhatami growled in my ear, his voice barely audible over the chattering of the gunfire. I felt his hands at my wrists, and a second later I was free. "Here," he added, pressing my Beretta into my hand.
"Thanks," I said, peering around the side of the car. Three of the five cops still standing had taken refuge behind the van and were pouring a controlled stream of thudwumpers at the autocab shelter. The two cops who weren't busy laying down suppression fire were on the move, running hunched over toward the shelter, veering wide to both sides to keep out of their comrades' line of fire.
I held my breath, waiting for the shooter at the shelter to notice the flankers and open fire on them. But either he'd completely missed their approach, or else the cops' fire had him too thoroughly pinned down. Either way, fifteen more seconds and they would have him.
An unpleasant tingle went up my back. This was too easy. It was way too easy. "Call them back," I urged, grabbing Bhatami's shoulder. "It's a trap."
"What kind of trap?" he demanded, throwing a frown at me.
Before I could answer, a car with no lights shot suddenly into view from the parking area to our left, gunning straight for the two running cops.
"Look out!" I shouted. But it was too late. The car slammed into the first cop, probably before he was even aware of its presence, hurling him through the air to skid to a broken halt almost at the feet of his comrade. The second cop had just enough time to brake to a halt and try to get out of the way before he too was run down. The impact threw him into the tall chain-link fence at the spaceport's perimeter. He bounced off the fence and lay still.
The police gunfire had faltered during the attack. Now, with a snarled curse from someone, the barrage began again, this time targeting the car.
Ignoring the hail of thudwumpers hammering his vehicle, the driver backed the car up a few meters. Braking to a halt, he opened his door, reached out to snatch the first dead cop's gun from the pavement, and lobbed it to the Filly hidden at the autocab shelter. With the kind of perfect coordination only the Modhri could achieve, the shooter's hand darted out at exactly the right time to the right spot to catch the weapon. Even before the pass was complete, the car lurched forward again, headed for the other dead cop's gun.
But the brief respite was all the rest of the cops needed to get the range. As the car surged toward the fence, I saw the driver jerk like a broken marionette as multiple rounds hammered his head and torso. He slumped over the wheel as the car rolled to a stop.
And then the driver's-side back door opened, and from my crouching position I saw a hand dart down from the rear passenger seat. It grabbed the remaining gun off the pavement, swiveled it around, and began shooting under the car at us.
"What the hell?" Bhatami gasped as one of the three remaining cops gave a choked gasp and sprawled onto the pavement. "He can't shoot that way."
"Tell him that," I retorted. Of course the Modhri could shoot blind that way—he had both the other shooter and Comet Nose to triangulate his aim for him.
I frowned as the thought suddenly brought Comet Nose to mind. I looked over at the pavement where I'd dropped him a minute ago.
He was gone.
"Watch it!" I warned, looking around. There was no sign of him. Had he faded into the night to our rear, heading away from the battle on some other errand? Or had he curved back around to follow Bayta and Rebekah? I looked through the glassed-in front of the spaceport building, but there was no one visible.