Sierra Bravo Page 7

  "Complying."

  Moments later they were airborne, skimming across the rooftops while Alice kept her eyes peeled. She couldn't see much below, not directly, but Arnie helped by projecting a live feed onto the canopy.

  "Can you mark any black vans?" asked Alice.

  "Certainly."

  "Good. I'm especially interested in any with damage at the rear."

  "It will be hard to see the back if we're directly above."

  "Scan them anyway." Alice looked at the flight console and frowned. "If only you had weapons! If we did find their van we could blow it to pieces."

  "I'm a flyer, not a fighter."

  "I can dream." Alice answered her commset and told Harriet she was patrolling, then put the device away and concentrated on the controls. She flew a spiral over the city, starting with a loop around the station and gradually expanding the radius until they were soaring over the outskirts. So far Arnie hadn't seen any black vans, let alone the one Alice had shot up the day before. She wondered if they were holed up somewhere, only daring to emerge outside daylight hours. Then she remembered the discussion she'd had with Harriet and Birch. "Arnie, tag the warehouse districts for me."

  "Complying."

  Blue rectangles appeared on the heads-up display, and Alice angled the ship towards the nearest. "I'm going to fly low. Scan as much as you can."

  They'd barely gone a kilometre when Arnie spoke up. "Van spotted. Multiple. Car park below."

  Alice reacted quickly, hauling back on the stick and bringing the ship to a halt. They hovered in mid-air, and she studied the display. There was a car park below, with a row of black vans along with several cars. "Mark the place," said told Arnie.

  "Target painted."

  "Can you zoom in?"

  Arnie complied, and a steady image appeared on the screen. Close up, Alice could see the vans had white lettering along the sides: Dave Gornov Pies. "Okay, that's not it. Resume the patrol."

  They continued flying for another thirty minutes, criss-crossing the city while Arnie's sensors scanned every vehicle. Several times they stopped to take a closer look at a van, but most were regular delivery vehicles, and none were damaged.

  "Where the hell are they?" muttered Alice. She was conscious of the fuel they were burning, but if she could find the damaged van it would be worth every drop.

  "I have two matching vehicles at three o'clock," said Arnie.

  "Let's take a look."

  The jet turned right, and once they were heading in the right direction Alice dropped the nose. She could see the vans ahead, parked side-on next to a row of ordinary cars. The car park was in front of a large brick building with a tin roof. The building had a faded sign above the main entrance, and appeared to be a warehouse or a factory unit. There was a big open area out the back, a hardstand with shipping containers and all kinds of junk dotted around, and there were several other buildings on the far side, backing onto the first.

  Alice brought the ship round to the left, until she could see the rear of the first vehicle. It was intact. Then she shifted to the right, slipping sideways with the nose still pointing at the vans.

  "Building proximity warning," said Arnie. "We're not allowed closer than one hundred metres."

  Alice stopped their sideways momentum and craned her neck. She could almost see the back of the second van, but not quite. Cautiously, she eased the stick to the right, and the ship moved slowly towards a big apartment block, jets thundering. Then it stopped moving. She frowned and pushed the stick further, but nothing happened.

  "That's the limit," said Arnie. "We're not allowed any closer."

  Alice swore under her breath. Another few metres and she'd be able to inspect the back of the van. Sure, it was probably another bust, but she wasn't leaving until she confirmed it. "Can we set down?"

  "There's a park five hundred metres away."

  Alice was still considering it when someone emerged from the building. It was a man with blond hair, and he shaded his eyes as he stared up at her. "Arnie, can you give me another couple of metres?"

  "I can override my safety parameters, but there will be an investigation."

  "Do it." Bernie kept giving her essays to write, thought Alice. It was about time the robot got some paperwork of her own to deal with.

  They slid sideways, very slowly, and as the rear of the van came into view Alice drew in a sharp breath. Bingo! The rear window was missing, there were ragged holes in the back door, and the broken tail light was as plain as day on the screen. "Gotcha," she muttered.

  As she looked down on the vehicles, and the big building with its rusty steel roof, she wondered what she'd do if her ship was armed. Nothing, she decided. The van might just be visiting the place, which might be a repair shop. And, even if it was the base she was looking for, there might be innocents inside. Family members perhaps, even kids.

  She was still eying the place when the man raised his hand, and bright streaks lit up the sky.

  "Incoming fire!" called Arnie.

  Alice turned the jet sharply, and as she did so she heard a bang. The jet shuddered, and the stick jumped in her hand.

  "Taking hits," said Arnie calmly. "Port wing."

  Alice pulled the stick back and punched the afterburner, and they streaked into the sky at full speed. Several shots went wide, and then they were clear. Alice craned her neck to see out of the canopy, along the wing, but she couldn't see anything. "Any damage?"

  "Negative."

  Alice felt a wave of relief, followed by a surge of anger. How dare they shoot at her ship? Her grip tightened on the controls and she turned for home. She handled the ship calmly and deliberately, but inside, she was seething. Briefly, she considered calling Harriet to let her know where the enemy base was, then decided against it. Harriet would order her to keep clear of the enemy, and that didn't suit Alice's plans at all. No, she was boiling mad, and she was determined to get her revenge.

  — ♦ —

  Harriet and Birch were sitting in a cab on their way to the first prospect. Birch looked out the window in silence, and Harriet wondered whether he was reliving past cases.

  "I grew up around here," he said at last.

  "It looks … nice," said Harriet, eying the slab-sided apartment buildings and a weed-strewn playground with its rusty equipment.

  Birch laughed. "It's a dump. But it was still home."

  They both sat in silence. "So who's this guy we're meeting?" Harriet asked.

  "He was kicked out of the Force after taking bribes."

  "And he's your first choice? What are the rest like?"

  "Don't jump to conclusions. He was a good officer, better than me. He just got himself in a hole, and Darting had a knack for finding Peace Force officers in trouble. It usually started with a free loan to cover their debts, and once they were in deep she tightened the screws. I wouldn't be surprised if her people dug the hole this officer found himself in. Entrapment was one of her favourite tricks."

  "So why do you think he'll help us?"

  "I'm hoping he'll take the chance to right old wrongs. Get his own back on the woman who ruined his career."

  "Is that enough for him to risk his life?"

  Birch shot her a look. "I'm here, aren't I?" At that moment his commset rang. He took it out and listened, then put it away again. "That was Captain Timms. Someone just called her, threatened her family."

  "What?"

  "They know we met her, and they want us out of the city."

  "So they're threatening an old lady?"

  "Timms called around, told her family to lay low." Birch studied her. "These people are serious, Harriet. Darting tried to take over Chirless once before, and it's obviously still her plan."

  Harriet frowned. "We're the last line of defence. If we leave, everyone will be helpless. "

  "I'm sorry I dragged you into this," said Birch quietly. "We were only supposed to be looking into a hold-up."

  "I can't just pick easy cases and run away from t
he rest."

  The cab drove on, and they travelled across the city in silence.

  Chapter 11

  The fighter thumped down on top of the Peace Force building, and Alice was out of her seat and heading for the airlock before the engines had finished shutting down. She got outside and ran across the concrete landing pad, heading for the port wing. As she looked up, she saw dark star-shaped patches where the blaster shots had struck the grey metal skin. Her mouth tightened into a furious line, and she felt the rage boiling inside her.

  "If only you had weapons," she muttered.

  "You don't need weapons to destroy an enemy," said Arnie, his voice distorted by the external speakers.

  "I don't?"

  "Of course not. Anything is a weapon when dropped from sufficient altitude."

  Alice turned to stare at the piles of rubble littering the roof. There were large chunks of stone, some as big as her head, and a grim smile broke out as she imagined them raining down from the sky. Suddenly she was galvanised into action, gathering the bigger stones one by one and ferrying them to the ladder. Once she had a dozen or so, she carried them up the ladder one-handed, struggling with every step as she got her makeshift missiles into the airlock.

  When she finally managed to get enough on board, she was panting hard, her muscles were burning and her arms felt like they were falling out of their sockets. She took a few deep breaths, then closed the hatch and ran up the spiral stairs to the flight deck. "All set for lift-off?"

  "Indeed."

  Alice took her seat and wiped the sweat off her brow. As she reached the controls, she wondered if her actions fell under the heading of 'doing something stupid' in Harriet's little book of rules. Then she shrugged. Harriet believed rules made life easier, whereas she, Alice, felt they made life so much more difficult. "Let's go," she said, once her harness was tight.

  "Where to?"

  "Do you really need me to tell you?"

  The jets fired, and Arnie immediately rose into the sky. Moments later they were streaking across the city, and Alice smiled grimly as she anticipated her revenge.

  — ♦ —

  The cab drove Harriet and Birch through a salubrious area, where large houses were surrounded by extensive gardens. There were private cars parked in many of the driveways, gleaming vehicles fresh from the showroom.

  "Something tells me your officer did okay for himself," said Harriet, eying a bright red sports car. She decided she wouldn't mind zipping around Dismolle in something like that. "What did he do, get into financial advice or something?"

  "No idea," said Birch.

  "Well, he'd never have got here on Peace Force wages."

  "Trainee Walsh, are you considering a change of career?"

  "No thanks, I like being poor. Plus I get a kick out of arresting bad people."

  They pulled into a broad driveway alongside a pair of long, sleek groundcars. There were half a dozen robots in the grounds, scurrying around as they tended to the gardens and maintained the impressive house. As Harriet got out of the cab she saw the curtains twitch in one of the upper floor windows, and she realised their arrival had been noted.

  The front door opened before they got there, and a tall, sombre-looking robot emerged. Behind it, Harriet could see a wide hall and a staircase. "Welcome. Please would you state the nature of your business?"

  "I'm here to see Martin Caldavir," said Birch. "David Birch is the name."

  "Is sir expecting you?"

  "We used to serve together."

  "That does not answer my question."

  "No, he's not expecting me, but—"

  "I'm afraid Mr Caldavir does not like to be disturbed."

  "This is Peace Force business," said Harriet.

  The robot studied her. "If that is the case, Mr Caldavir is even less likely to speak with you."

  "Who is it, Worthy?" A woman came down the stairs. She was wearing a dressing gown, and had a cup in one hand. "What do they want?"

  "These people are here on Peace Force business. They wish to see your husband."

  "Well show them in."

  "As you wish, madam." The robot stepped back and opened the door wide, and Harriet and Birch stepped into the hall. "If you'd care to wait, I'll see if Mr Caldavir is available."

  After the robot left, the woman eyed Harriet's uniform, then glanced at Birch. She was about thirty-five, with blonde hair and dark eyes, and if anything, Harriet thought she looked bored. The woman drank from the cup, then gestured towards a side door. "He'll be in the workshop, like always."

  "What does your husband do?" asked Harriet.

  "Not much," admitted the woman. "I'm Moira, by the way. Excuse the dressing gown, I had a late night."

  "Bit of a party, eh?"

  The woman frowned. "No, I was working on my thesis."

  Harriet clasped her hands behind her back and waited patiently. Having been neatly put in her place, she decided it would be best to stay silent.

  "You have a lovely house," said Birch, trying to break the ice.

  "Really? Do you want to buy it?"

  "Er, no."

  There was another strained silence, even longer this time, and then with a rush of relief, Harriet heard footsteps. She turned to greet Birch's old colleague, but instead it was the robot, alone.

  "I'm sorry, Mr Caldavir is busy and does not wish to be disturbed."

  "But I have to—" began Birch.

  "Worthy," said Moira. "Be a darling and fetch me a coffee, will you?"

  "Of course, madam." The robot bowed and left, and then Moira waved them towards the side door. "Go on, you might as well go through."

  "But he said …" began Harriet.

  "Oh, forget Worthy. He won't have even gone out to the shed. He just waits round the corner, counts to sixty and comes straight back again."

  "But why?"

  "Let's just say he has his little quirks. Anyway, if you nip out now he'll never know."

  "Won't your husband be surprised to see us?"

  "Sure, but he loves an audience." Moira inspected her cup. "Need coffee. You two head out the side door and turn right. You can't miss the shed."

  They obeyed, emerging from the side of the house into a lane which led down the side of the house to the back garden.

  "She's a bit … unusual," said Harriet, as they set off. She'd wanted to say 'odd', but she toned it down. After all, the woman had let them in.

  "I've never met her," said Birch. "Martin was single when I knew him."

  As they turned the corner they saw the back garden laid out before them like a private park. And in the corner, in the shade of a huge tree, there was a workshop as big as most houses. Harriet led the way, and when they got to the structure she opened the door.

  Inside was workshop heaven, with expensive machinery on stands, and racks on the walls holding every manner of hand tool. Each tool had its place, with an outline showing exactly where it belonged. And sitting in the corner, with his feet up on a side table, was a dark-haired man in his mid-forties. He was reading a book, and as Harriet and Birch entered he lowered it and looked at them enquiringly. "Can I help you?" Then he stared at Birch, and a flicker of recognition crossed his face. "Dave?"

  "Hi Martin. Long time no see."

  The man got up and they shook hands enthusiastically. Then he turned to Harriet. "It's been a while since I saw anyone in that uniform. Have they reopened the station at last?"

  "Harriet Walsh. I'm with the Dismolle branch."

  "Well, that's a start." Caldavir smiled at her. "Is this an official visit? Should I be worried?"

  "Why, have you done something illegal?" Harriet looked around the workshop. The place was crammed with tools and racks of raw materials, and the walls were hung with models of primitive weapons. Spears, wooden shields, even crossbows. Some of them looked to more than just models. "What are you making in here? Theatre props?"

  Caldavir gestured. "That stuff? Moira's studying prehistory, with a focus on ancient warfa
re. She comes up with a theory, then knocks up a working sample to test it out." He indicated the book. "I just like to sit out here when she's not using it. I like the peace and quiet. You know, like when people come knocking on the door unexpectedly, and—"

  "Anita Darting's back," said Birch, cutting him off.

  Caldavir frowned. "Now there's a name I never expected to hear again," he said softly. "I thought they locked her up for life?"

  "Well they didn't, and she's causing trouble again."

  "Think you can stop her?"

  "Not on our own," said Harriet.

  "Oh, I get it. First the Peace Force dumps me without any kind of a trial, and now they want me back. Charming."

  "Did you take a bribe?" Harriet asked him.

  "Aren't you the blunt one?" Caldavir eyed her. "I took several bribes, yes. Darting thought she had me in her pocket. One of her tame coppers, on a leash."

  "How many did she have?"

  "That's what I was trying to find out. Figured it'd be easier from the inside." Caldavir shrugged. "Unfortunately the brass didn't see it that way, and they shopped me. I still had the money in a safe, untouched, along with dates and times of the bribes, but they refused to see it my way. They wanted to make an example of someone, to scare the rest into line, and they chose me."

  His explanation had a ring of truth to it, but Harriet imagined most bent cops would use the same excuse. "What did you do after the Peace Force?"

  "Private consulting. Security, mostly. People were running scared, and it was a lucrative business for a while there."

  "I bet you were coining it … until this Darting woman got busted."

  Caldavir laughed. "I'd sold the business by then. Perfect timing." He gestured around the workshop. "Kept us in fancy toys ever since. In a way, the Peace Force did me a huge favour."

  Harriet was silent. His explanation made sense, but it sounded like a rehearsed answer. If she had the choice, she and Birch would walk away and leave Caldavir to his book and his workshop, but really, she had no choice. They needed more people. "Darting's running a protection racket, and she's probably up to a lot more we don't know about yet. The Dismolle Peace Force is here to help, but we can't face her alone."