The Most Dangerous Dame

Johnson grinned. “I give ‘em a taste of my Johnson. Get the picture?”

“A firearm… literally.” I took a closer look. “I usually don’t admire bioguns, but that’s pure genius, Sarge.”

He winked as his arm smoothly folded back in place with a whir of oiled gears. “Don’t I know it. Lot more it can do, but I can’t give up all my secrets.”

We walked back into the lobby. “Can’t say I blame you. What else do you got for me?”

“What else do you need?”

“Can’t think of nothing, except some rounds for my girl here.” I patted the Mean Ol’ Broad. “I got what I came for.”

“All this heat and you walk off with a single handgun. Let’s see if you can say no to this.” He pulled a tiny handgun from one of the nearby drawers and handed it to me.

It barely registered as weight in my hand. “What’s this peashooter do?”

“It’s the new Ruger model. Light as a feather, but packs a major wallop. Six plus one rounds.” He held one of them up to the light. “Transparent casing so you can see what’s inside.”

I took a closer look. “Some kind of white powder.”

“Concentrated mercury fulminate, my friend. These slugs are manufactured to explode on impact, guaranteeing whatever you tag won’t exactly be walking away, catch my drift?”

“Sounds messy.”

“The best kills are.” A conniving light gleamed in his eyes. “Say you’ll take it and I’ll toss in the automated sleeve holster. Snap your fingers twice and it’ll release the pistol from the holster to your hand in less than a second. Might come in handy in a tight spot.”

I shook my head and sighed. “You talked me into it, Sarge. You rob all your clients like this?”

“Only the best ones.” He set the piece on the counter, tossed in a few boxes of slugs, and rang me up.

I swiped my holoband across the sensor on the counter for payment. “Good thing my last gig actually left me with a little dib stash. Makes it a bit less painful to part with these hard-earned berries.”

He nodded appreciatively. “Dibs are meant to be spent, my man. That’s why we do what we do.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

He handed my goods over with a grin. “Take it easy, Mick. Send some customers my way.”

I tipped my Bogart. “Yeah, like you need the extra work. You already have every goon in town toting your wetware.”

He grinned. “Never hurts to get a little more, right?”

“Amen, brother. See you around.”

With the Mean Ol’ Broad back, I felt pretty good as Maxine purred across the highway. Rain still slicked the road, but that was nothing new. Rain was as common as gunshots in New Haven. Hardly a day went by without one or the other. Most days featured both.

We made it back to the office in good time. The covered sidewalks kept us from getting soaked on the way from the garage.

“You heard from the Cowboy lately?”

Poddar shook his head. “Not since he left New Haven. Said he was going stir-crazy. He headed out to bag a mark. His visa was about to expire anyway.”

“You and Kilby renewed yours, though.”

Poddar didn’t look too enthusiastic when he nodded. “We’re applying for citizen status. Ms. Kilby wants to stay here permanently.”

“So why the long face?”

Poddar stopped in mid-stride. “Do you like it here, Mick?”

I shrugged. “How should I know? I don’t remember being anywhere else.”

“But you don’t have a problem with it?”

I paused. “Problem? Why the hell would I?”

He sighed as we fell back in stride. “It’s… hard to explain. This is the first Haven I’ve been to, but it’s so—”

“Filthy? Depressing? Violent?” I gestured to the surrounding Flats neighborhood, where mammoth buildings towered like crumbling mountains. The whole area was a mass of murky streets, half-lit tenements, and gutter businesses. Nothing to brag about, but to me it was home.

He frowned. “I was going to say oppressive.”

“Oppressive?” I rubbed the faint stubble on my chin. “That’s unexpected.”

Poddar threw a dark glance at the surroundings. “It’s just that this place is hiding something. I know it. Something isn’t right about this Haven. I can’t put my finger on it, but the scent of dirty secrets hangs in the air like perfume.” He sighed. “It’s hard to find the words.”

I grinned, but it felt hollow. “What, like everyone having memory implants that keeps them settled and unwilling to leave the Haven? Everyone under the watchful eye of some secret society bent on dominating from the shadows? That kind of feeling?”

Poddar’s brows creased. “I can’t ever have a serious conversation with you, can I?”

My answering laugh was about as wry as they get. “If only you knew, Poddar. If only you knew. You go through Customs when you got here, or did you go the ol’ fashioned palm greasing fashion?”

“We didn’t go through Customs. The waiting list is years long. We went through a handler.”

“Smuggled in, then. Foolproof documents installed in your holobands from an ex-Customs agent, I figure.”

He shrugged. “Ms. Kilby handled the legal stuff. I was more concerned about getting crossed over.”

“I don’t blame you, Ace. Don’t blame you at all.”