Read Online Cates 05 - The Final Evolution by Jeff Somers - Free Book Online
Authors: Jeff Somers
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someone had snuck behind me to steal the vehicle, and I heard Wa Belling’s voice in my head, his rolling accent, all charm and venom, telling me I was the worst fucking Gunner he’d ever seen. I put one hand on the warm metal and grimaced. I was going to put a bullet in Wa’s face for past betrayals. Or I intended to. Wa was an old man, but he was good—better than me, certainly, in a fair fight. He knew how to kill, and even Michaleen—Cainnic Orel himself—had said Wa was the best he’d ever seen with a gun. It wasn’t going to be easy.
I stared into the shadows of the hangar and considered the possibility that this was, again, a trick. Belling had tricked me plenty of times, and his tricks were professional, done with style and attention to detail. Fuck, the man had pretended to be a completely different person for several weeks during the Hong Kong job, complete with backstory and supporting details—the man had method . If he was setting me up for some new hell, some new humiliation, this was how it might start: information that didn’t seem to just fall into my hands, pointing me in his direction.
I shrugged inwardly and turned, half-expecting to see a dozen people creeping toward me in the sunlight, knives clenched between teeth, and hands curled into fists. There was no one. When people were throwing rocks at you, one man with a working gun was scary. I leaned back against the four-wheeler and pushed aside my coat, resting one hand on the Roon and letting it glint in the sun, in case anyone was watching. A scoped rifle would blow my head into a million pieces, but scoped rifles had been rare and expensive before the war, then common and easy during the war, and now it wasn’t the scoped rifles that were difficult to find but the ammunition they required. Besides, if you started worrying about snipers, you might as well dig a hole and stay buried, because that sort of thinking went crazy real fast.
Movement out on the edge of the industrial park made me jerk to attention briefly, but it was Remy and Adora. It was warmer up north than it had been in Potosí, and Adora had stripped off her heavy underclothes and now just wore the overalls, her bare skin tan and smooth, her curves strongly hinted at by the shadows created by the unveiled sunlight. Remy behind her was like a shadow in his black coat, shirt, and pants, his pale face hidden by the mess of dark hair. As they walked toward me they talked, and suddenly, about halfway to me, Adora burst out laughing again, her face contorted into a mask of hilarity, her whole body hunching and quivering with sudden mirth. A stabbing bolt of jealousy went through me, and I shook myself.
“Don’t be a fucking asshole, Avery,” I muttered. This was rookie shit, getting jealous of the only woman in the room. Adora wouldn’t be dumb enough to start fucking one of us, anyway—that was a chip that could always be played, and you didn’t play it until you had to. Not out here, in fucking Mexico City.
“Water,” she said, still grinning, as they approached, and held up one of the plastic jugs they’d taken out with them.
“Clean?” I asked.
She nodded. “Rainwater. Silt had settled, mesh screening kept it clean.” She shook her head. “This is the largest city I have ever seen.”
I thought of Hong Kong. “I’ve seen larger,” I said. “We should get moving.”
She nodded and stepped around to the driver’s side. Remy paused and stood for a moment next to me, staring off into the distance.
“She called me forzudo .”
I didn’t look at him. “Get in the fucking cab,” I said, “before I break your hand.”
He sketched a salute in the air.
* * *
Forty minutes later we started to see people on the streets, first as quick shadows springing for hiding places, then, slowly, as clumps of people staring at us as we sped by. I thought about Gleason, a girl I’d adopted years ago and tried to bring up, a girl I’d gotten killed. I had a
I stared into the shadows of the hangar and considered the possibility that this was, again, a trick. Belling had tricked me plenty of times, and his tricks were professional, done with style and attention to detail. Fuck, the man had pretended to be a completely different person for several weeks during the Hong Kong job, complete with backstory and supporting details—the man had method . If he was setting me up for some new hell, some new humiliation, this was how it might start: information that didn’t seem to just fall into my hands, pointing me in his direction.
I shrugged inwardly and turned, half-expecting to see a dozen people creeping toward me in the sunlight, knives clenched between teeth, and hands curled into fists. There was no one. When people were throwing rocks at you, one man with a working gun was scary. I leaned back against the four-wheeler and pushed aside my coat, resting one hand on the Roon and letting it glint in the sun, in case anyone was watching. A scoped rifle would blow my head into a million pieces, but scoped rifles had been rare and expensive before the war, then common and easy during the war, and now it wasn’t the scoped rifles that were difficult to find but the ammunition they required. Besides, if you started worrying about snipers, you might as well dig a hole and stay buried, because that sort of thinking went crazy real fast.
Movement out on the edge of the industrial park made me jerk to attention briefly, but it was Remy and Adora. It was warmer up north than it had been in Potosí, and Adora had stripped off her heavy underclothes and now just wore the overalls, her bare skin tan and smooth, her curves strongly hinted at by the shadows created by the unveiled sunlight. Remy behind her was like a shadow in his black coat, shirt, and pants, his pale face hidden by the mess of dark hair. As they walked toward me they talked, and suddenly, about halfway to me, Adora burst out laughing again, her face contorted into a mask of hilarity, her whole body hunching and quivering with sudden mirth. A stabbing bolt of jealousy went through me, and I shook myself.
“Don’t be a fucking asshole, Avery,” I muttered. This was rookie shit, getting jealous of the only woman in the room. Adora wouldn’t be dumb enough to start fucking one of us, anyway—that was a chip that could always be played, and you didn’t play it until you had to. Not out here, in fucking Mexico City.
“Water,” she said, still grinning, as they approached, and held up one of the plastic jugs they’d taken out with them.
“Clean?” I asked.
She nodded. “Rainwater. Silt had settled, mesh screening kept it clean.” She shook her head. “This is the largest city I have ever seen.”
I thought of Hong Kong. “I’ve seen larger,” I said. “We should get moving.”
She nodded and stepped around to the driver’s side. Remy paused and stood for a moment next to me, staring off into the distance.
“She called me forzudo .”
I didn’t look at him. “Get in the fucking cab,” I said, “before I break your hand.”
He sketched a salute in the air.
* * *
Forty minutes later we started to see people on the streets, first as quick shadows springing for hiding places, then, slowly, as clumps of people staring at us as we sped by. I thought about Gleason, a girl I’d adopted years ago and tried to bring up, a girl I’d gotten killed. I had a
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