I stared. “Your time? You were the one who dragged me in here, remember?”
“You were the one knocked cold on the floor while thieves stole some pretty important data. Next time watch the company you keep.” Flask nodded to the guards. “Get this carcass out of my face.”
They didn’t bother to respond. They just dragged me down several scuffed-up hallways before pushing into a brightly lit office and depositing me in front of a glass-plated booth. A fat mug in uniform looked up from his girly magazine and grunted.
“Checking out? Don’t get many of those. What name?”
I straightened my rags and glared at the impassive guards. They didn’t appear impressed.
“Mick Trubble.”
The portly clerk chuckled. “With a name like that, I’m sure you’ll be back. Here you go. One dusty trench coat.” He passed it through the slit in the window.
“Flogger, you mean,” I said as I put it on. It was rumpled and a bit worse for the wear. Just the way I left it.
The clerk gave me an irritated glance as he pushed the next item through. “One beat up fedora.”
“Bogart, Mack. Get it right. It’s called a Bogart.” I placed it on my head and tilted it just the way I liked it.
He glared. “You trying to leave or stay, wise guy?”
“Sorry. That all?”
He grunted. “One last thing. Your antique revolver. Minus the rounds, of course. You got a name for that, too?”
I grinned. “You bet your third or fourth helping of pork pie I do, Mack.” I accepted the Broad and span the cylinder. “The Mean Ol’ Broad is what I call her.”
“Yeah, well keep her away from other mugs and we’ll all be happy. See you again soon, kid.”
“Not in this lifetime, Ace.” I turned and walked out into the thick foggy air of New Haven freedom, hoping that Flask wasn’t yanking my chain just for the fun of it. Since I didn’t get pummeled by android thugs or yanked back inside the slammer, I guessed that somehow I was let off the hook.
Only I knew I wasn’t.
One thing about justice in New Haven is that one mug was as good as the next when it came to pinning the blame. The brass had me nailed to the wall, then let me outta the cage with no further questions. And even let me keep my heater. Sure, packing heat was legal in New Haven, but supposedly they suspected this particular bean shooter had been used in multiple crime scenes.
The whole thing stank to high heaven. As I rode in the cabbie toward the city, I knew that somehow they were tailing me. Hoping that I’d lead them to bigger fish they wanted to fry.
I started with the obvious first, and hit pay dirt right away. A homing tag was attached to the butt of the Mean Ol’ Broad. Metallic-colored and thin as skin, it was pretty hard to spot at a casual glance. I made sure to leave it in the cab when I got out. After that I flagged down another cabbie to get to my destination.
It took a few hours of beating the streets to get the info that I needed. After that it was a quick stop at an older complex in the Flats. When I crept down the hall, I noticed that the door I was headed for was ajar. I stepped close and listened.
“It was one helluva job, Wiseman.”
I recognized the voice. The masked goon that gassed me. His voice was clearer since he wasn’t wearing the mask. It didn’t improve much, though. Sounded like he ate barbwire for breakfast and washed it down with a tall glass of crushed gravel.
“One for which you were handsomely paid, Turk.” Wiseman said. His voice was tense. “As agreed, you keep the dib transfers. They’ve been cleared and made untraceable thanks to my connection with the labcoat at Commerce.”
“So you say, Wiseman. But you’re skipping town. So if we happen to get nabbed then you’re untouchable. You might short change us the way that you did your boy on the cruiser.”
I grinned. Karma was a helluva thing, and there was no honor — or trust- among thieves, it appeared.
“What are you gaming at, Turk? A deal is a deal. You knew what was gonna happen before it all went down. Why try to pull a grift on me now?”
“Because I got to thinking, Wiseman.”
“Really? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”
Turk chuckled. “Wise guy. I figured that me and Bert here did most of the work on this gig. Seems to stand that we should get in on those Transit passes. They’re way more valuable than the berries.”
I moved in closer and peeked in at the scene. Turk and Bert had their backs to me, blocking my view of Wiseman. It was Elvira’s pad, so either she was out somewhere, or I just couldn’t see her either. Turk and Bert were pretty big lugs. Good thing I had an equalizer with me.
I pulled out the Mean Ol’ Broad and checked her rounds. Good thing slugs were cheap, and readily available. I’d bought a box just around the corner at the liquor mart.
Wiseman’s voice sounded confident. Too confident. “No can do, gentlemen. The deal stands. Now rotate your heels before things get ugly.”
“It’s already ugly, Wiseman.” Turk gave a slight nod to Bert, who pulled a sawed-off scattergun out of his flogger and pointed it at someone just beyond my range of vision. Had to be Elvira.
Turk confirmed it with his next words. “You seem pretty stuck on this fat dame of yours, Wiseman. I figure you either hand over the Transit codes or she’s gonna lose weight real fast.”
I pushed the door inward and stepped inside. “You forgot about the third option.”
Bert span around a lot faster than his bulk suggested he could, but the Broad already had him lined in her sights. One shot put him down before he could fire a round. Turk cursed as he reached for his iron. Another shot rang out, dropping him cold.
Elvira had a smoking gun in her hand, and a hardened glare on her pretty round face.
“Call me fat, will you?” She ran her free hand across her rounded parts. “Anyone will tell you that this is all the more to love, sugar.”
I tipped my Bogart. “I’m sure it is, Elvira. What I’m not sure of is why I don’t just finish the job they started. You set me up, and I wanna know why.”
“I knew you’d get over that little road bump, kid.” Wiseman had his fingers on his wrist like he was checking his pulse or something. “You hung around me for a whole month. Figured you’d pick up on how to get outta a jam or three.”
He eyed the Broad in my hand. “You gonna put her away, or you gonna plug me? Make it quick either way. I got a train to catch.”
I sighed and holstered the Broad. “You serious about skipping town, Wiseman? That’s what this whole gig was about?”
“Serious as a sin sandwich, my boy. Comes a time when a man sees where he’s been and thinks about where he’s going. I can’t do this anymore. This town… it’s gone to the dogs. I won’t spend what’s left of my life watching the rain wash grime down the gutters. I’m pulling stakes and moving on. There are better Havens out there. Couldn’t afford to leave on my tiny nest egg, so I had to set up this gig to get a couple of seats on the next tram out of here.”
He checked his holoband. “And we’re almost late.”
“Waitaminute.” I raised my hands. “You could’ve ran that grift any time after you took me in. Why go through all the trouble of showing me the ropes and all?”
A smile creased his face. “Someone’s got to take care of things when I’m gone. Every town needs a good Troubleshooter, son. A mug that takes out the trash without worrying about getting his hands dirty. You’ve got skills, my boy. Don’t know how you got ‘em, but it doesn’t matter. You’ll do just fine.”
Elvira placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled. “We’re sorry for crossing you over, Mick. We knew they didn’t have anything on you, and would’ve let you out after the minimum bid.”
Wiseman had pulled a couple of suitcases from the closet. “Which should’ve been a couple of months. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad for it. Makes me feel a lot less guilty. But how’d you manage to pull that one off?”