Read Online 02. The Shadow Dancers by Jack L. Chalker - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jack L. Chalker
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the others off to other agencies he trusted. Considerin' this was two and a half million bucks no matter what, he didn't mind much if he pissed off a couple of clients.
The morning of the third day we met Bill and went down to the airport and caught a flight west. First class, too, first time I ever rode that, and it was real nice. The seats are real wide, the drinks are free, and the service is great, but the food's just the same-they only make it look a little fancier.
At San Francisco, we changed to a private Learjet for the ride up to Oregon, which was even fancier and more luxurious, but we wasn't on it long enough to really enjoy it. Then, at Bend, the final switch to a standard four-seat helicopter for the ride up to McInerney, the little town in the middle of nowheres high up in the mountains that was the main station at least for our North America.
Considerin' how crazy this all was, and how, odds were, I was takin' my last ride, I really just relaxed and enjoyed things and didn't think too much 'bout the end of all this. Not that I was puttin' it outta my mind, it just wasn't nothin' to think about. I done all that when I made the decision to take the case.
I mean, in a way, it weren't no different than dressin' up like some whore and goin' undercover in the bad dude's hangouts, and I done that more than once. Either way, they catch on or somethin' don't go right and you're just as dead whether it's some Nazi nut on some crazy other world or some small-time hood in Philadelphia or Camden. It was true that I had more to lose this time, but I also had more to gain. Sniffin' out some missin' girl to see if she was on some pimp's string or findin' some runaway daddy who was hidin' out in the worst places, the kind the cops don't go in, for twenty to fifty bucks was crazier than doin' this for millions. No risk, no gain. I just made sure high risk was high gain, that's all.
Sam was a lot more worried, mostly 'cause in this case he had no control. He was strictly backup, but he was still important to me and both he and I knew it. If it did go bad, and I could get that word out, it was his job to pull me outa there no matter what.
McInerney was still the little town on the little road along a pass where the railroad came through with the one lousy diner and the one small motel and the Company's station just outside, lookin' like a cross between a railroad yard, which it was, and lots of warehouses, which it also was. 'Cept, of course, one of them warehouses was the station and not for trains.
And that's what the place looked like, even inside. One big, empty warehouse with a concrete floor and lots of dirt and stains and lots of see-through walkways and stairs of steel criss-crossin' overhead. Bill had decided not to waste no time once we got in; he wanted to get us where we-or me, anyways-could start work. That took a lot of high-tech prep, and the best and most secret place to do it was at the Company headquarters-the home world. Few folks who worked for the Company or even rode the Labyrinth all the time ever went there; it was strictly controlled and mostly off limits. I got to admit I was always curious about what the place looked like and what its people were like, but I never expected to find out. Bill had been there twice before, so he at least knew his way around a bit, but this time he wasn't bein' ordered there by the bosses but by us. He didn't really seem to mind, which helped the nerves a little, I guess. 'Course, he didn't have to get his mind fucked and go undercover in that slime pit.
Bill was a nice guy, but you always got the idea that if he could get somethin' done a little quicker by killin' you it just wouldn't enter his head to do nothin' else but shoot you right then and there.
It's always kinda impressive to watch the Labyrinth come on, partly 'cause you still can't figure out what it's doin' or how and it's kinda pretty. You stand over in the safe zone of this big warehouse floor and some
The morning of the third day we met Bill and went down to the airport and caught a flight west. First class, too, first time I ever rode that, and it was real nice. The seats are real wide, the drinks are free, and the service is great, but the food's just the same-they only make it look a little fancier.
At San Francisco, we changed to a private Learjet for the ride up to Oregon, which was even fancier and more luxurious, but we wasn't on it long enough to really enjoy it. Then, at Bend, the final switch to a standard four-seat helicopter for the ride up to McInerney, the little town in the middle of nowheres high up in the mountains that was the main station at least for our North America.
Considerin' how crazy this all was, and how, odds were, I was takin' my last ride, I really just relaxed and enjoyed things and didn't think too much 'bout the end of all this. Not that I was puttin' it outta my mind, it just wasn't nothin' to think about. I done all that when I made the decision to take the case.
I mean, in a way, it weren't no different than dressin' up like some whore and goin' undercover in the bad dude's hangouts, and I done that more than once. Either way, they catch on or somethin' don't go right and you're just as dead whether it's some Nazi nut on some crazy other world or some small-time hood in Philadelphia or Camden. It was true that I had more to lose this time, but I also had more to gain. Sniffin' out some missin' girl to see if she was on some pimp's string or findin' some runaway daddy who was hidin' out in the worst places, the kind the cops don't go in, for twenty to fifty bucks was crazier than doin' this for millions. No risk, no gain. I just made sure high risk was high gain, that's all.
Sam was a lot more worried, mostly 'cause in this case he had no control. He was strictly backup, but he was still important to me and both he and I knew it. If it did go bad, and I could get that word out, it was his job to pull me outa there no matter what.
McInerney was still the little town on the little road along a pass where the railroad came through with the one lousy diner and the one small motel and the Company's station just outside, lookin' like a cross between a railroad yard, which it was, and lots of warehouses, which it also was. 'Cept, of course, one of them warehouses was the station and not for trains.
And that's what the place looked like, even inside. One big, empty warehouse with a concrete floor and lots of dirt and stains and lots of see-through walkways and stairs of steel criss-crossin' overhead. Bill had decided not to waste no time once we got in; he wanted to get us where we-or me, anyways-could start work. That took a lot of high-tech prep, and the best and most secret place to do it was at the Company headquarters-the home world. Few folks who worked for the Company or even rode the Labyrinth all the time ever went there; it was strictly controlled and mostly off limits. I got to admit I was always curious about what the place looked like and what its people were like, but I never expected to find out. Bill had been there twice before, so he at least knew his way around a bit, but this time he wasn't bein' ordered there by the bosses but by us. He didn't really seem to mind, which helped the nerves a little, I guess. 'Course, he didn't have to get his mind fucked and go undercover in that slime pit.
Bill was a nice guy, but you always got the idea that if he could get somethin' done a little quicker by killin' you it just wouldn't enter his head to do nothin' else but shoot you right then and there.
It's always kinda impressive to watch the Labyrinth come on, partly 'cause you still can't figure out what it's doin' or how and it's kinda pretty. You stand over in the safe zone of this big warehouse floor and some
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