When she recovered, the doorway was empty.
Swearing under her breath, Alice vaulted the chest of drawers and ran for the door. It closed automatically just before she got there, and she was forced to wave her arms at the sensor while the van drove off with a squeal of tyres.
The doors opened, finally, and Alice squeezed through and ran into the road. She levelled the gun and fired off half a dozen shots, smashing the van's rear window, punching holes in the rear doors and blasting one of the tail lights into a cloud of multicoloured fragments. She only stopped firing after two shots went wild, skimming off the pavement and burying themselves in a wall.
The van weaved as it tore up the road, and Alice could see the occupants hunched over in the front, keeping their heads down. Slowly, she lowered the gun, a serious look on her face. She'd seen them off, for now, but she couldn't help feeling she'd just started a war.
As she eyed the broken glass littering the road, she felt for her commset. She swore as her fingers closed on thin air, and she turned and ran for the electronics store.
— ♦ —
"Still nothing?" asked Birch.
Harriet lowered her commset. "Not a huge surprise. She prefers to duck confrontations." She frowned. "Well, duck them with me, at least. Everyone else is fair game."
"Are you sure she took your gun?"
"Yeah, but I don't care about that. I mean, I'll have to make a fuss about it, of course, but right now I just want to know how she's getting on."
"She'll be fine."
"Of course. It's everyone else she meets I'm worried about." Harriet glanced at her commset. "Can you deal with Foster on your own? I really think I should go and—"
"Ms Foster will see you now," called the receptionist, gesturing towards a door. "Down the corridor, up the steps and it's the first on your right."
Harriet put her commset away and stood up. "Let's get this over with. We just want the names of a few ex-coppers, people we can call on for backup."
"Got it," said Birch.
They strode to the door, and Harriet pulled it open, letting Birch through. Moments later they reached Foster's office, where a new brass plate on the door bore her name. "I thought this was supposed to be temporary," muttered Harriet.
"Maybe she carries spares," murmured Birch.
Harriet grinned, and knocked on the door.
"Come!"
The door opened, and Birch entered the sumptuous office first. "Ms Foster … Agatha. We meet again!"
"David, so nice to see you!" Foster smiled at him, and then her smile faltered as she saw Harriet. "Oh. It's you."
Harriet decided not to call her Agatha. "Yes, Ms Foster. Trainee Harriet Walsh, present and correct."
"Well, you're certainly present, but I can't vouch for the rest."
Zing! thought Harriet. Their swords were crossed, and the duel was about to begin.
Fortunately Birch was there as a second, and he handled Foster like a pro. "I was only saying the other day that Chirless and Dismolle should combine their Residents' Associations. I see the process is already under way."
"Oh, this?" Foster smiled. "I'm merely keeping the Chair warm for a colleague."
Harriet could hear the capital letter … and she could also see a shiny new nameplate on the desk. If this was temporary, she was a Peace Force Captain.
"I'm so glad you're here," said Birch. "With a little co-operation, you can help my team with a major case."
"I'm in no position to offer resources," warned Foster. "This organisation is run on a very strict budget."
"We're not after funds," said Birch quickly. "Just a little information."
"Do tell."
"We're investigating gang activity in Chirless. An old acquaintance might be up to her old tricks, and her first targets appear to be store owners. She's extorting cash, and let me tell you, once she's got her hands on enough money she'll bring in a whole army of thugs to do her bidding."
"I see. And how does this affect the Residents' Association?"
"They're your residents she's beating up," snapped Harriet. "Or don't they pay you enough to—"
Birch raised his hand, silencing her. "What my trainee is trying to say, in her blunt fashion, is that nobody benefits from social unrest. Stores will close, and residents will flee the city. There will be whole suburbs under gang control, and you'll have little chance of getting them back. Not without spending a great deal of money on private security."
That hit a nerve. "What do you suggest?"
"They're still fresh on the ground, Agatha. There can't be more than a handful of these people, and with quick, decisive action we can round them up and make the city safe for all."
Harriet felt Birch was laying it on too thick, but Foster merely smiled.
"Again, I ask what you need."
"Contacts. You must have the details of a few retired Peace Force officers living in Chirless. I can use those men and women right now."
"Are you suggesting I send an army of pensioners against these thugs?"
Harriet raised an eyebrow. That seemed a bit rich, given Foster was about eighty herself. Then again, she probably wasn't drawing a pension.
"We're not suggesting pitched battles in the streets," said Birch. "I just need their expertise to guide these, er, young trainees."
Foster fixed Harriet with a penetrating stare. "I understand your concern. However, I must deny your request."
"What?" exclaimed Harriet.
"First, we have strict privacy laws. I can't just hand out details to anyone who walks in off the street."
"This is Superintendent Birch of the Dismolle Peace Force," snapped Harriet. "He's hardly—"
"Second, and more importantly," said Foster, completely ignoring her. "I can't have Dismolle interfering in Chirless matters. It sends entirely the wrong message to my fellow Association members."
"Agatha … " began Birch.
"I prefer Ms Foster, if you don't mind. Familiarity is so tiresome, don't you agree?"
"Ms Foster,"
