Pita clenched her fists. “You fragging bastards!” she screamed, heedless of the line of shields bearing down on her. “Why can’t you just leave us al-“
She barely glimpsed the stun baton that cracked against her skull. Static exploded in her brain, and suddenly the pavement rushed up toward her. She slammed into the street and felt hands flipping her over roughly. As she lay blinking, cheek to the rain-damp pavement, dazzled by the spots that swam before her eyes, her arms were yanked back. Something tight cinched around her wrists. She saw boots, the cuffs of Kevlar pants-and then the cops were past her, waving their stun batons and running up the street. She lay on the pavement, fighting to control her heaving stomach. The dead boy lay only a meter or two away, his head leaking blood.
As her head slowly cleared, Pita realized how much trouble she was in. She was busted. And by the same fragging goon squad whose members had flatlined Chen. She closed her eyes and cried.
18
Carla stood just outside the line of yellow plastic ribbon that marked off the crime scene, straining for a better look. Inside the Lone Star barrier, two cruisers sat with lights flashing, illuminating the night with swaths of blue and red. Overhead, a surveillance drone took aerial pictures of the street, while on the sidewalk below it, plainclothes detectives bent over three bodies that had been covered with clear plastic sheeting to protect them from the drizzling rain. Other plainclothes officers combed the street, collecting shell casings and placing them in evidence bags.
The shooting had taken place in front of Underworld 93, a nightclub in Puyallup, a district of Seattle that was heavily controlled by organized crime. Two burly men in expensive suits-probably members of a local crime family-stood off to one side, observing the cops. Given the way things worked here, they’d probably get the details of the investigation before Lone Star did.
A few young bar patrons, dressed in trendy clothes, stood in a knot in the nightclub’s doorway, answering questions and pointing up the sidewalk to where the bodies lay. Music boomed out through the open door.
Despite her enhancements, Carla was unable to make out the features of the victims. Rain beaded on the clear plastic that shielded them, blurring their profiles. Smears of red obscured the rest. There was blood-lots of it-on the cement. There hadn’t been time for the rain to wash it away.
Carla lowered her umbrella, ducked under the crime tape, and approached the Lune Star officer who was keeping an eye on the handful of people who’d gathered in the street to watch the police at work. Given the area, he was probably on the take and wouldn’t be averse to a cash “incentive” to let her know what had gone down here tonight.
As Carla approached, he immediately turned to confront her, one hand on the stun baton that hung from us belt, “Excuse me, miss. Officers only. Please step back behind the…” As his voice trailed off, his head tipped to one side. With a gloved hand, he reached up and flipped open the tinted visor of his helmet.
Carla smiled as she recognized the face. Corporal Enzo Samartino. What luck! She’d done an interview with him a few months ago, when the Men of Lone Star pin-up calendar was released. The officers who’d posed for it had gotten into some hot water, despite the fact that the calendar was a fundraiser for the children’s wing of Seattle General Hospital. It seemed that Lone Star’s top brass didn’t like the idea of their officers appearing in nothing but cap and boots. Or maybe it was the creative uses to which some of the models put the Lone Star badge that had slotted the brass off. In any case, Enzo had provided Carla with some of the story’s best quotes. And he’d been the best-looking of the bunch. She shifted her umbrella back to get a good look at his thick, dark moustache and long-lashed eyes.
“Enzo. Good to see you again! What’s a good-looking fellow like you doing in a place like this?”
Enzo returned her smile and touched a finger to the visor of his helmet. “Just my job, ma’am.”
Carla laughed. “Me too.”
“Shouldn’t you be downtown with all the other reporters? Sounds like the orks are really mixing it up with our City Center detachment, outside Metroplex Hall.”
Carla shook her head. “Not me. I’m the day shift. I’m officially off.” She tipped her head toward the spot where the detectives were working. “I heard about this shooting over the scanner in my car as I was driving home. Given the neighborhood, I thought it was just another driveby. But then I heard the description of one of the casualties. Native American, left hand cybered and chromed, right hand tattooed with a black bird.
Enzo jerked a gloved thumb over his shoulder at one of the corpses. “That’s him. You know the guy? We’re still trying to get an ID on him, he wasn’t local. And all he was carrying was a generic credstick.”
Carla glanced at the figure that lay in a contorted heap on the ground. From the way the plastic sheeting dipped, it didn’t look as if there was much left of the fellow’s head. “He’s a shadowrunner who goes by the name of Raven. Runs with an elf with blond hair-a Caucasian male about thirty or so. But I don’t know his name.”
“We wondered who that was, The sergeant had him pegged as a passerby who got caught in the crossfire. So he was involved too, huh? Doesn’t really matter much, now. We sent him off by ambulance, but he was DOA at the hospital. He won’t be answering any questions.” Enzo frowned. “Those two weren’t friends of yours, were they?”
“Hardly. Just sources, that’s all.” She winked. “I only consort with those on the right side of the law.”
Enzo refused to be sidetracked. “So why the interest in them?”
“I’m just out ambulance chasing,” Carla answered. “Even though I’m off work, old habits die hard. Anywhere there are dead shadowrunners, there’s a story. What can you tell me about what happened here?”
Enzo chewed his moustache, then glanced back at the plainclothes detectives. “Is this an official interview? I can’t release names until the next of kin are notified. shouldn’t even be talking to you. If the Homicide sergeant finds out I let anything slip…” He eyed the woman who was directing the plainclothes officers, then glanced even more nervously at the two gangsters in suits.
Carla could see that she was about to lose the slight edge she’d gained. If she didn’t convince Enzo to talk in the next few seconds, he would shoo her back behind the tape, and she’d have to wait until the morning’s press conference to find out what had happened here tonight. If, that was, the local ganglords allowed any press release at all. The shooting might have no connection at all with the shadowrunners’ visit to her apartment. Or it might be a vital link in the chain that would lead to her cracking open the Mitsuhama story.
“Tell you what,” she said, deactivating her cybereye. “We’ll keep this strictly off the record. I won’t use your name, or record your image or voice, and I promise to sit on any names you give me until they’re officially released. I won’t pester the relatives of the victims, and I’ll give you whatever information I dig up that might help the Lone Star investigation.” She favored him with her most winning smile. “If the sergeant asks what you were talking to me about, you can tell her you were finally getting around to asking me out on a second date. Deal?”
She was amused to see the big cop was blushing.
“All right,” he said grudgingly. “I can give you a little, but you’ll have to talk to the detectives-on the record-to get the full story. All I know is that the runner you said was named Raven tried to force Victim Number One to take a walk with him. Victim Number Two intervened to keep his girlfriend from being dragged away. Somebody started shooting, someone else started tossing mana bolts around, and a few minutes later, all three were dead. Or all four, I should say, since the blond elf also seems to have been involved in this.”