"Rest her soul," said Foster piously.
"I'm a local. Your sister was my Super. Just because I work with the Dismolle branch now—"
"Birch. David Birch. Yes, I recall your name now. My sister once mentioned you in connection with a bribery scandal. I believe she had to fire you, am I right?"
Birch pressed his lips together.
"Well, I'm sorry, but my mind is quite made up." Foster glanced at her terminal. "My next appointment is due, and I do so hate to keep people waiting. Important ones, that is. You can show yourselves out without assistance, I take it?"
As they walked along the corridor to the lobby, Harriet resisted the temptation to kick holes in the walls. Alongside her, Birch was quiet, but his face spoke volumes.
In the lobby Harriet pulled out her commset and called Alice again. To her surprise, she got a reply. "Alice? Where have you been?" She paused. "What you mean, there was a gunfight in the street? Are you all right?"
Birch signalled the receptionist. "Get me a cab. Now!"
Chapter 7
"Okay, see you in twenty minutes. I'll meet you outside the furniture shop."
Before Alice put the commset away, she checked a few menus. "Hey, nice job!" she exclaimed. "I always wanted that game."
"You're welcome," said the shop owner. "Now, if you could just pay up …"
"Sure, sure." Alice laid her gun on the counter and patted her pockets. "Well, look at that. I left my cash in my spare uniform."
"Oh my," said the woman drily. "What a shock."
"Call it evens?" said Alice.
"Evens for what?"
"Evens for me not busting you."
The woman sighed. "All right, it's on the house. Now get out of my shop. You're scaring the real customers away."
Alice took the gun and left, whistling tunelessly as she emerged in the street. Further along the road a pair of robots were cleaning up the broken glass, sweeping it carefully into dustpans and tipping them into a trash can on a hand cart. When they were finished, one of the robots climbed onto the front of the cart while the other took the handles. Then, with a whirr from its motors, the second robot sprinted up the road, pushing the cart along as fast as any car.
After they'd gone there was no evidence of the gunfight, apart from two blackened craters in the nearby wall.
She returned to the furniture shop, where the owner was clearing up shards of broken pottery. "You!" he exclaimed. "You could have got us killed!"
"You're welcome," said Alice, with a frown.
"Don't mind pops, he forgets to take his pills."
Alice glanced towards the counter, and paused. There was a teenage boy, about her age, tall with fair hair. He had a friendly face, and as she looked at him he smiled. "Do you know anything about the couple who came in?" she asked.
"They were here this morning. We didn't have the money, and they threatened pops until he promised to have it ready for them." The boy gave her a nervous look. "They took all we had. There's no way we can pay again."
"We have to," said his grandfather. "Those people, they will never stop."
"Relax," said Alice. "I just shot up their van. They'll think twice before showing their faces around here again."
The old man peered at her. "Oh, yes. I remember being young and foolish myself once. Lucky for me, I got old and wise."
Alice reddened. "What are you on about?"
"Those people, they will fetch more people, and bigger guns." The old man prodded her uniform. "They will come back, and this will not protect you … or us."
"I have friends too," said Alice defensively. "And guns. And a damn great fighter jet."
"This will be useful in my shop," said the old man, with a shrug.
His grandson crossed to the front door and looked out. "How long before they come back, pops?"
"Who knows? Not long enough, I say."
"So that's it?" demanded Alice, "You're going to keep paying?"
"Do I have a choice?"
The old man left with his broom, and Alice was silent. Then she noticed the grandson beckoning to her from the doorway. They left the shop, and together they stood on the pavement outside.
"Sorry about that," he said. "These people have got pops really riled up."
"Are you sure?" said Alice. "Looks to me like he's already rolled over and offered up his belly."
"You don't know him." The boy looked her up and down. "Are you from Chirless?"
"No. I'm Alice Walsh, out of Dismolle. We were called in this morning."
"I'm Ben. Ben James."
"I'll put that in my report," said Alice drily.
"What's Dismolle like?"
"Pretty much like Chirless, only we fight back when people try to take our stuff."
Ben hesitated. "Do you really have a jet?"
Alice was about to reply, but her commset rang. "Yep?"
"Alice, change of plans," said Harriet. "I've spoken to Birch, and we're going to set up a base at the old Chirless Peace Force station."
"Should I meet you there?"
"No, we'll meet at the ship, and Rover can fly us there. Arnie, I mean."
"Too late," said Alice, with a laugh. "You're walking, sis."
"When Bernie hears you lifted my gun, you'll be writing essays for the next ten years."
"Flying you to the Peace Force station, yes sir," said Alice smartly, and she hung up.
"You really do have a ship!" said Ben, looking at her admiringly.
"Yeah. It's just an old military jet, but the controls are really light."
"You fly it?"
"Sure."
Ben's jaw dropped, and he looked at her like she'd sprouted wings. "Could you … do you think maybe … I could get a ride some time?"
"Well …"
"I mean, I know it's official Peace Force transport and everything, but—"
Alice decided to see just how much further his jaw would drop. "The ship isn't Peace Force transport. It's mine."
The reaction was all she expected, and more. He couldn't have looked more surprised if she'd taken her gun and shot him in the foot. "Anyway, I'd better dash," she continued, "I've
