Short Fiction · Blood on My Jets (2/9) (2/2)

“I don’t know⁠—but I’ve got an idea. I got about a hundred yards up the street when I spotted this guy tailing me. I yelled, and he ducked. At the same time, this other fellow started running toward me across the street. I burned him down, and ducked in here just as the bird on the roof opened up. That’s it, until you came along.”

I swore. I didn’t go for three men gunning one girl. I looked over the top of the railing. One or two people were starting to come out of doorways.

“Maybe we’d better get out of here,” I said.

We ran up the street to another alley. She re-holstered her guns on the way, revealing a lot of what the dress advertised.

We stopped inside the alley and caught our breaths. “Well, anyway,” I said, “I know what you’re in this for.”

She looked up sharply. “What?”

“You need money to buy some underwear with.”

She slammed her hand into my face. I ducked back, and stood there, blinking.

“Look, Holcomb, as far as I’m concerned, the deal’s on. Fine. Thanks for helping me out back there, too. But just thanks⁠—no further payment. And no kidding around. This is a business deal. Have you got that straight, or do I burn you down where you stand and find another boy?”

She meant it. I looked down at her hand, and one of the Colts was in it.

“Okay.” I hadn’t meant that crack as a pass, but as long as the question had come up, it was all right by me to have it settled right here. “But put that thing away before I make you eat it.”

She grinned, suddenly, and put the gun back. “I’m sorry, Ash. But it’s the best way I’ve ever found to establish a clear-cut business relationship. Partners?”

She stuck out her hand, and I took it.

“Deal.”

A siren rose and died on Rocket Row. Pat jumped back. “Damn it!” she said. She shot a glance up the alley. “We’d better split up,” she said. “Look, Ash,” she said hastily, “I’ll get in touch with you. Meanwhile, do what I tell you to, and don’t waste time asking me why. I’ll tell you later. All you have to do now is take the job Transolar is going to offer you. That’s all. Take that job, and start to carry it out. I’ll be in touch with you somewhere along the line.”

She looked down toward the alley’s mouth. I followed her glance, and saw shadowy figures of men running by.

“They’ll be in here in a minute. I’ve got a car a couple of blocks away. I’ll see you, Ash.”

“Yeah. Hurry up,” I added, as the first of the cops came warily into the alley.

I pulled my gun and ducked behind a barrel as she started to run. The cop yelled and came after her. I snapped a shot over his head, and that drove him into cover. Over the shouts that rose, I could hear her footsteps fading out.

I followed her cautiously, sliding from behind one ashcan to another, keeping the cops down with an occasional shot. I made it out of the alley and into the street, then ducked into a doorway, kicked the lock loose, took the stairs two at a time to the roof, and got away over the housetops.

And all the time, I was wondering about Pat, the job that Transolar was going to offer me, and how she’d known about it.