Harriet's blood ran cold, and she cursed her over-confidence. She should have stayed in the car, or better still, driven right past the damn warehouse. She'd guessed it was a trap, but she'd decided to walk right into it anyway. Now, all she could do is try and talk her way out. "I'm Harriet Walsh, with the Dismolle Peace Force," she said, her voice firm. "Did one of you call the station to report a couple of kids throwing rocks?"
"Like we'd call the cops," said the nearest man, with a snort.
Harriet was encouraged. At least he hadn't taken a swing at her. "Did Smith send you down here?"
"Common name, that."
"Tyron Smith. He's an off-worlder."
One of the men behind her spat on the ground. "I ain't getting paid for talking. Let's finish this."
The men began to close in, and Harriet looked around in vain for an escape route, her heart pounding in her throat. They were hemming her in, and once they were close enough she was done for. Her only hope was the one guy on his own, between her and the car park, since he couldn't block the alley by himself. Going the other way, towards the two men, would be suicide.
Harriet feinted to the right, and as soon as the man began to move she darted to the left. He turned quickly, swinging the length of wood with both hands, and she felt the wind of its passing as she dodged under the blow. Then she put her head down and ran for it. The men cursed behind her, the nimble move having fooled them all, but seconds later she heard pounding footsteps as they chased her.
"Steve, open the door!" she shouted, as she raced towards the cruiser.
The engines fired up with a blast of smoke, and the car lifted off its landing gear, the struts folding away neatly as it hovered in mid-air. Harriet was ten metres from the cruiser now, and she could feel the men breathing down her neck.
As she approached the patrol car, Steve turned side-on and opened the driver's door for her. Harriet didn't pause, she took three long strides and dived headlong into the waiting vehicle, landing heavily across both seats and the centre console.
Winded, she could only hang on for dear life as the car blasted away from the car park, her legs still flailing out of the the open door. There was a loud CLANG as one of the men threw his iron bar, and then they were clear.
Harriet twisted and turned until she was more-or-less sitting up, yanked the door to, then sat back and stared at the roof, still breathing heavily. She reckoned that was the most frightened she'd been in her entire life, and now that she was safe the reaction set in. Her hands began to shake, and her legs felt like jelly.
"Are you okay, Harriet?" asked Steve.
"Thanks to you," she managed at last. "You're a life-saver."
Chapter 10
"The boss just called. He says the girl is on the way, and you'd better be ready." The speaker was a tough-looking woman with braided hair and a large silver skull-head piercing in one cheek. She was carrying a metal bar and a black cloth bag, and as she spoke she took the bar and hammered it on the tin wall. There was a tremendous crash, and the two men who hadn't been paying attention jumped up, scattering playing cards. "I will leave broken bones," said the woman quietly.
"We're supposed to bring her in alive," said one of the men.
"Who's talking about the girl? It's your bones I'm gonna smash." The woman used her rod to point out several vantage points in the cavernous warehouse. "You two, over there. Either side of the doors, cover the entrance. You, in the middle behind the crates. The rest of you, take cover and only show yourselves if I call out."
They moved into position, their footsteps echoing in the large building's interior. The warehouse was mostly empty, with only a few stacks of mouldering boxes offering any clue as to its original purpose. The woman didn't care what purpose it used to have, because right now it had to become the perfect ambush. If she failed, Smith would make her pay.
The thugs had barely taken their positions when they heard a car approaching the front of the building. The car came to a halt just outside, and the whine tailed off to a low idling sound. The tough-looking woman stood in the shadows near the big entrance doors, black cloth bag at the ready. When the girl walked in, she planned to capture her quickly, without fuss. Bag over the head, arms behind the back, then rush her to the waiting vehicle parked behind the warehouse. She'd done it many times before, and she had the whole process down to a fine art.
Thud! Someone slammed a car door, and then … silence.
Everyone tensed, the woman included. They were only facing a teenage girl, but she was still an officer in the Peace Force, and despite Smith's assurances she might very well be armed.
— ♦ —
Alice's cab turned off the side street and pulled into the car park outside a big building. There was a flight of steps to the double front doors, and she couldn't help noticing the brickwork was run-down, and badly in need of fresh paint. The building had a derelict look to it, and the area around it wasn't much more than scrub and dried grass.
Alice got out slowly, eying her surroundings. Her heart was beating fast, and she drew her Peace Force jacket tight, subconsciously shielding herself. The cab drove off with a whirr, leaving her standing there, alone, in a cloud of dust.
She felt
