Drakov fired.
The band had set up on the stage and the musicians were running through a final sound check with all the instruments and mikes. There was a massive wall of amplifiers stacked behind the band and everything was turned up full. There was a bank of synthesizers, two electric guitars, an electric bass, a gargantuan clear plastic drum kit with two huge basses, rows of accoustic and electric tom-toms, cymbals and an array of gongs and bells, and the ensemble was rounded out by the lead singer, an androgynous young man with snow white hair down to his shoulders and a strut a 7th Avenue hooker would have envied.
He paraded back and forth across the small stage, prowling like a panther in a cage, shrieking into the mike with such abandon and such force that Lucas winced, wondering how he could possibly sing like that and not scream himself hoarse. The sheer volume of the band was deafening. With his roadielike appearance, no one bothered to approach him. And with the volume of the music, conversation would have been impossible…
This was where it started, he thought in passing as he quickly scanned the club.
The heavy metal sound, which over the years became the dominant form of music, absorbing both the fringe and mainstream styles, always on the cutting edge of technology until it eventually metamorphosed into cyberpnok, the ultimate union of the musician and his instrument, where the synclaviers and percussion circuit boards were actually hardwired into the musicians' bodies.
The band stopped playing for a moment to make some minor adjustments, and the silence after such an auditory barrage was almost a shock. Lucas took advantage of it to approach one of the club's employees, a beautiful young woman in a black
Lycra miniskirt and a T-shirt emblazoned with the club's logo.
'Excuse me,' he said, and the aftereffects of the band made him speak much louder than he needed to, but she seemed used to it. 'I'm looking for those people who just came in here, two guys, and a girl-'
'You with the band'?' She gave him a cursory glance and went back to applying black fingernail polish to her nails.
'Yeah, and so's the girl. I'm supposed to get-'
'Upstairs.'
'What?'
'Upstairs, they went upstairs.'
'Oh. Thanks.'
He headed for the staircase, but as he got there, the big bouncer stood in front of him with his beefy arms folded across his chest.
'Where do you think you're goin'?'
'Upstairs,' said Lucas.
'Oh, yeah?'
'Yeah.'
The bouncer shook his head and rolled his shoulders back, flexing his lats and chest muscles. 'I don't think so.'
Lucas tried to go around him, but the bouncer stepped in front of him, putting his hand up against his chest and shoving him back. At that moment, the band started up again. Lucas didn't waste time trying to argue. The music was too loud, in any case. He simply kicked the bouncer in the groin with all his might and then swung the rolls of cable hard across his face as he doubled over with pain. Then he ran up the stairs two at time, taking advantage of the noise. He reached into the pocket of the leather jacket, took out the switchblade and flicked it open.
He reached the top of the stairs and looked around quickly.
There was no sign of Andre or Drakov or the other man. But Manelli, sitting at his table in the corner, looked up and saw him, spotted the switchblade in his hand. quickly tapped
Vincent on the shoulder and pointed at Lucas. Vincent and the other man quickly got up and started coming toward Lucas, reaching inside their coats. Lucas didn't think that they were reaching for cigars. He took the rolled cables and slung them hard at the man furthest away from him. Instinctively, the man threw his hands up to protect his face. The cables struck him and he staggered back against the balcony railing, lost his balance, and the wailing of the electric guitars drowned out his scream as he went over.
Lucas didn't stop. He continued moving forward fast after he threw the cables and just as Vincent cleared leather with his big, black Beretta, Lucas was on him, grabbing his gun hand with his left hand and with his right hand, driving the knife deep into his solar plexus and up underneath his ribs.
Vincent's breath hissed out of him and his eyes opened wide in shock, as if he was unable to believe that someone with a knife had actually kept coming when he had a gun. Then he was collapsing to the floor and Lucas had the gun. Manelli was coming up out of his chair, the girl beside him was screaming, the sound drowned out by the band, and then her scream suddenly became sharply audible as the band stopped, having seen the first gunman fall from the balcony. There were more screams coming from downstairs now and Manelli was reaching inside his coat.
Lucas raised the Beretta and shot him in the chest.
And then all hell broke loose.
The yellow cab pulled up in front of the entrance to Il Paradiso, and the moment they stepped out, the terrified driver mashed the pedal to the floor and peeled out into traffic, fishtailing and nearly causing a collision between two other cars, whose drivers blew their horns in loud, prolonged blasts of protest.
'Nervous fella,' said Hunter. 'He didn't even wait to collect his fare.'
People were starting to queue up outside the club, waiting for the doors to open.
Their costumes ranged from the casual to the outrageous. Spikey hair in shades of blue and purple, studded and fringed leather, cheeks dusted with glitter, young men wearing eyeshadow and black lipstick, girls with their heads shaved bald. A sign advertised that a band named Flesh was playing there that night.
Hunter glanced at the kids on line, then at Gulliver's green transit fatigues, the black base fatigues that Delaney was wearing, the holstered laser on Delaney's belt and the plasma pistol strapped to his upper thigh.
'Think we're too noticeable?' he said.
Darkness suddenly appeared beside them.
'Unless you expect me to take care of everything for you, you'd better get in there right now,' he said..
'Wow!' shouted a longhaired young man in a headband, faded jeans and a camo fatigue jacket festooned with military pins. and insignia. He. pointed at Darkness, standing there and flickering like a ghost on a television screen. 'Check him out!'.
A gum-popping black girl in spike heeled boots and Dan-skins nudged Delaney with her hip. 'Yo, Rambo,' she said, touching her tongue to her upper lip, 'can I play with your big gun?'
'Come on,' Delaney said, grabbing the bewildered Gulliver's arm and pulling him along toward the entrance to the club.
'We'll take a raincheck, honey, “ Hunter said to the black girl, then hurried after Delaney.
Darkness had disappeared again and the bewildered young longhair in the camo jacket kept pointing at the spot where he had stood and insisting to his friends on line, 'He was right there, man! Seriously. Then he beamed out, just like on Star Trek!'
Two large club employees who looked like bikers stood at the door. They saw
Delaney and Gulliver coming, looked at each other and shook their heads.
'Christ, look at this,' one of them said. 'It's Chuck Norris and Buckaroo Banzai. '
“Aweight, hold it right there!' the other one said, pointing at them. 'Look, you can't bring those sci-fi toys in here, Mac, somebody might think that it's a real-'
Delaney unholstered his laser and shot a beam straight at the sidewalk between the biker's legs.
'Ho-ly Shit!'
The biker leaped backwards. and as Delaney continued resolutely toward the door-, the other one swallowed hard and hastily opened it for him. The sound of the band making its final sound check came through and the kids on line shouted gleefully ilnd started to push through after them. As Delaney, Gulliver and Hunter pushed past a startled cashier, a body fell from the balcony and landed on the dance floor. The band fumbled to a stop and somebody screamed.
Above them, on the balcony floor, someone fired a shot. And almost simultaneously, there was the
