his spastic tail. He wore an abbreviated leather vest and denim cutoffs. He was taking the lead in this idiotic display. 'Doncha know who we are?'
This was more than enough for Nohar. 'You're two rodent wetbacks too stoned for your own good. You're future road kill if you keep this up.'
The big one—well, the relatively big one, maybe 70 kilos, mostly fat—didn't like that. 'We the Ziphead, man, and you better up some bucks for that. We rule
here . . .'
This was nuts. These guys were Latin American cannon fodder. Honduras, Nicaragua, Cuba, Panama, all the Central American countries went for quantity and quick reproduction. Huge standing armies from zero—most of the rats were never even trained to use their weapons.
Two of those, those jokes, were trying to face down someone whose genes had gone through a multibillion dollar evolution simulation to produce the elite troops of the Indian Special Forces. Nohar had no special training, but it was still ludicrous.
He smiled, teeth and all. He couldn't take this seriously. 'Ever occur to you I just made a deposit?'
Fearless Leader was put out. 'You don't ruck with us—stray—we'll shave you.' 'We vanish what don't give us respect—'
' 'Stigmata de nada.''
Stupid and stoned. That last line only made sense to them, and they found it uproariously funny. Nohar stepped to the side and left mem to their inside joke.
'Fucking stray,' Snick. Bigboy had pulled a weapon, sounded like a knife.
Nohar slowly turned around. Bigboy had a switchblade out and was showing the world that he couldn't use it. It was long, pointed, and had no edge to speak of. Bigboy was swishing the thing like a baton. Wide slicing arcs that, had they connected with anything solid, might raise a FORESTS OF THE NIGHT
41
welt and would probably sprain Bigboy's wrist all to hell. 'Teach you some respect. I'll have your tail for a belt.'
Nohar stowed the comments. He spread his legs apart and bent down, lowering his center of gravity. He thrust his left arm, claws forward, in a defensive posture, while his right arm hung back behind him, hand cupped to slice at any opening Bigboy gave him. He growled, deep in his diaphragm. The sound didn't make it out of his throat.
Bigboy was oblivious in his advance. Fearless Leader had a little more brains and hung back. Bigboy was reeking of excitement and adrenaline. Fearless was almost as jacked, but he was beginning to realize he might have bitten off more than he could chew.
Bigboy swung one of his wide, predictable arcs. Nohar caught Bigboy's wrist with his left hand, remembering Nugoya, and smiled at the rat. Nohar's right hand swung forward in a well aimed sweep that left four light trails of blood on Bigboy's overlarge gut.
'Listen, ratboy, I could have pulled you into that sweep. We'd have a nice view of your intestines— Drop the knife.'
The knife clattered to the ground. Nohar stepped on it and let Bigboy go. Fearless was still backpedaling. Fearless didn't seem to get the point, he was still on his line of bullshit. ' 'Your pussy bastard ass is mine.''
Fearless was reaching behind, into the waistband of his cutoffs. Nohar knew instinctively that the rat was going for a gun. Nohar was about to jump Fearless-he could clear the distance easily before the rat got his hand untangled from his pants—but the action was broken by a burst of high-pitched rapid-fire Spanish from down the street, by the old bus.
They all turned that way to face a snow-white female rodent. She wore the same abbreviated leather vest and denim cutoffs. Her naked tail was writhing, and she sounded pissed. Nohar immediately pegged
42
S. ANDREW SWANN
her as a superior. Bigboy and Fearless seemed to forget about him and began talking back to her in Spanish as well. All babble to him, he just hoped she was cussing the fools out.
Cat-and-mouse is not a smart game to play when you are the mouse.
The three rodents were talking among themselves, and Nohar began to slowly
withdraw from the rodent
fiasco.
Nohar had nearly gotten to the door to his apartment. Bigboy and Fearless had slunk away, but the white one stayed.
'Rajasthan!'
The white rat was addressing him directly. She wasn't making any threatening
moves, so Nohar stopped and
waited.
'You are a lucky cat, son of Rajasthan—' How did she know, how could she—'What do
you-'
'I speak! You listen.*' The force of the rat's voice actually made Nohar stop his question in mid-breath. The tiny rat's body could produce a voice that would intimidate a rabid ursine. 'The finger of God has just touched your brow, son of Rajasthan. Those that control want your life for their reasons. They buy you much tolerance.'
The rat paused, and for once Nohar had nothing to say. She just stood there, staring at him with eyes mat looked like high-carbon steel. Nohar turned toward his door—
'Pray you that God doesn't forget you, Nohar. If the blessing is lifted, Zipperhead will have you.'
Nohar punched the combination on his door. He had given the rats enough of his time.
'/'//have you, Nohar,'
As Nohar ducked inside, the white rat added, 'You, or someone you love.'
He slammed the door shut. It was a shame. She hadn't been bad-looking. Her triangular face ended in FORESTS OF THE NIGHT
43
a delicate nose—but she was a die-hard creep just like her idiot subordinates. She also wore cheap pink perfume. Why would a morey wear that kind of crap? Nohar had hurried away from the smell as much as the spiel. He took a few deep breaths of relatively clean air before he started up the stairwell.
The humidity was making his door stick again, and it took him a few seconds to unwedge it. The damn thing was heavier than it should have been because it had a steel plate in it, a relic of the previous tenant. Nohar would have questioned the wisdom of sticking an armored door in a wooden door frame.
Cat ran up to the door and immediately began rubbing against his foot. 'So you hungry or lonely?' Nohar asked the yellow tomcat as he picked it up. A loud purr from under his hand told him to figure it out for himself. Nohar pushed the door shut with his foot and ducked into the living room. Cat started butting his head into Nohar's chin, and, after glancing into the kitchen to check Cat's dishes, Nohar decided Cat wasn't hungry.
'Sorry I took so long, I got distracted by the local color.' Cat closed his eyes as Nohar scratched him behind the ears. 'But, lucky us, I got one hell of an advance from a client before the first of the month.'
Cat started grooming Nohar's thumb.
'Yeah, right. Look, you little missing link, I have to put you down so I can get this damn pink clothing off. So don't start mewing at me—'
Nohar put him down and Cat started mewing.
He undressed and looked at the comm. Two messages waiting now.
'Comm on,' he said to the machine as he started peeling clothing oif of his damp fur.
'comm on.'
Nohar reclined on the couch. Cat took up a perch on his chest and purred. 'Classify. Phone messages.'
44
S. ANDREW SWANN
'two messages. July twenty-ninth, three-oh-five p.m. from detective irwin harsk, calling from—'
'Play.'
Static, then Harsk's bald black head appeared on the screen.
