Dead Dwarves Don't Dance Page 3

  A pleasant chime sounded in the room, and Cori glanced up to see the blinking light on the monitor by the door.

  “Vid on. Buzzer camera, please,” she said, turning to the big vidwall. It blinked to life, revealing a bloody, battered dwarf standing at the building entrance.

  “It’s me, Cori,” Noose groaned. “Can I come up?”

  Cori ordered the computer to open the lobby door. She ran down to the elevator and waited, pacing back and forth, until the doors opened and Noose stumbled out. The grim dwarf was in bad shape; his hair wet and disheveled, blood coagulating around a fresh wound on his forehead. He favored his left side as he walked from the elevator.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Seems I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Noose grimaced, holding back the pain. Beneath his ripped and burnt duster, Cori could see bloodstains on his shirt and pants.

  She helped him back to her apartment, where he collapsed on the leather sofa, breathing heavily. He saw a picture of Cori and her sister on the end table, and turned away.

  “You going to tell me what’s going on?” Cori said, looking down at the fatigued genny.

  Noose looked at Cori standing over him, silk robe hanging open, providing a tantalizing view. He saw the ticket in her hand, a welcome distraction to what he had to tell her.

  “Since when did you start playing the Dead Pool?”

  “Damn the Dead Pool!” Cori threw the card to the floor and sat down next to Noose, tugging open his duster.

  Noose groaned as she pulled his bloody hand away from the torn shirt and the wound beneath. Cori gasped when she saw five centimeters of plastic water pipe protruding from Noose’s side, near his holster.

  “Oh my god, Noose,” Cori breathed. “We’ve got to get your clothes off.”

  The dwarf grinned widely. “Thought you didn’t want to get involved with me, Cori.”

  “Dump the jokes, you stupid dwarf!” She helped him out of his duster, and he could not stifle a groan of pain as she removed his holster. She tossed aside his backup pistol and pulled off his shirt, revealing his scarred, muscular torso. His bar code glowed at the base of his neck, a memento that all neohumans shared: it identified when, where, and by whom they had been genetically engineered.

  She turned her attention back to his wound. The 20-millimeter diameter pipe had penetrated completely through his side; the other end emerged from his back. Blood seeped from the wound and dripped down between the sofa cushions.

  “We better get you in the bathroom,” she said.

  “Sure thing.” Noose strained to rise, but failed. “Um, might need…your help on that.”

  Cori frowned. “You’re going to need a mortician’s help if you don’t stop trying to play the tough guy.”

  She held him beneath shoulders and legs, and lifted him into her arms. Blood stained her white robe as she carried him across the room and down a hall, into a spacious bathroom. She laid him gently on the shower floor, careful to keep the pipe from hitting the tile bench.

  “You’ve been working out, Cori,” Noose commented, as she hurriedly opened a cupboard and removed several boxes.

  “Yeah, for ten years. Now shut up.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Noose managed to smile.

  She knelt beside him, dropping a variety of medical supplies on the tiles. He winced as she sprayed the wound with disinfectant, and then turned him on his side to get a better look.

  “I’m going to have to pull this out. I suppose a big tough guy like you doesn’t want a tranq?”

  Noose shook his head grimly. “I have to tell you something and the tranq would put me out. Besides, if Neil the Cybernetic Barbarian can handle it, so can I.”

  She turned away from his forced grin. “You’re a masochist, Noose. And an idiot.”

  “And your robe is open.”

  Cori looked down at herself then wrapped her robe tighter. “For a half-dead dwarf, you sure notice the strangest things.”

  Noose smiled widely. “They don’t look strange to me.”

  Cori raised her hand in sudden anger, then stopped. She grasped the end of the pipe sticking out of Noose’s side and pulled, hard. Noose grunted as it scraped out of him. His legs kicked out involuntarily and he hammered a fist against the tile floor. His world blurred and dimmed, the bathroom lights coalescing into a single glare. He fought the sensation, forcing himself to remain conscious, but then found himself emerging from total darkness.

  “Back with the living, huh?”

  “For the time…being.”

  “Until you insult someone a tad too important.”

  “No one more important than you.”

  Cori looked at his wound. “Looks like the pain’s going to your head, dwarf.”

  “Pain’s for slags.”

  “Then you must be living a life of agony.” She held up a tranq patch. “Time to say night-night.”

  “The hell with that!” Noose said loudly. “I got things to do.”

  “Yeah, like sleep.” Cori quickly stuck the patch against his arm. “You aren’t going anywhere any time soon. That wound’s going to take a while to heal, and until it does you sure as hell can’t be scouring Atlanta looking for the guys that did this to you.”

  Noose collapsed onto the floor, the anesthetic coursing through him, calming his nerves, soothing his muscles. “What makes you think I’d do that?”

  Cori smiled. “Noose, I know you better than you do. Any time anyone screws you, you screw them back ten times over.”

  Noose closed his eyes. “Hey…I got a rep to…uphold.”

  “Quite a few reps,” Cori agreed. She stood and walked to the counter.

  Noose watched through half-closed eyes as she removed the bloody robe. Well-defined muscles rippled beneath the deeply tanned skin of Cori’s athletic body. It was the result of intense training: no cybernetics, gene-mods, or implants, just pure, righteous, un-engineered, God-given assets.

  The corners of Noose’s mouth twitched upward, but then the drugs fully kicked in and he drifted off with a grin on his lips.

  5

  Noose woke to find himself in a large bed, the covers tucked under his chin. Dim morning light filtered through the window. He moaned quietly, and felt his side to find fresh bandages bound tightly about his midriff. The wound was sore, but he also recognized the all too familiar tingling of medical nanobots coursing through his flesh, mending the damage. He lifted the covers to find himself naked and washed clean of the blood and grime of the previous night.

  He looked around the bedroom and saw Cori, dressed in denims and t-shirt, standing in the doorway and sipping from a cup.

  “Been having your way with me, huh? I’d prefer to be awake when you take my clothes off, you know.”

  Cori smirked, concern fleeing from her expression. “I guess near-death won’t change your ways.”

  “It’d take a hell of a lot more than death to change me.”

  “Like a woman, maybe?”

  “Is that a proposition?”

  “Get your mind out of your pants for once.”

  “You took off my pants.”

  “Noose!”

  He held up his hands. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. No more cracks.”

  “Yeah, right.” She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’ve been skewered,” he replied. “But, wait! I was skewered. So I guess I’m feeling normal under the circumstances.”

  Cori nodded. “Yup, same old insufferable Noose. You probably don’t even realize that if you’d lost much more blood you wouldn’t even make a good appetizer for a six-year-old vamp.”

  “Luckily, I found you first.”

  “No kidding. Now, are you going to tell me what you were doing at Stiltzkin’s? You’ve always said you don’t dance and I definitely can’t picture you jumping around to the latest from Shocktock.”

  “How’d you–”

  Cori put a hand to his lips, smiling
at his surprise. “Hey, contrary to what you might think, I’ve got a lot more going for me than just this body.”

  “You do?” Noose asked in extreme mock surprise.

  She slapped him on the shoulder. “Anyway, I heard about the attack on the club and you’ve got shell casings and a missile tube in your coat. Two plus two.”

  “Well, I could’ve been out hunting big, mean bears.”

  “Yeah, and the bear decided to ram some plumbing into your gut. Well, were you a victim or the perpetrator?”

  Noose’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Exactly what I said. Did you pull the biz, or did someone try to pull the biz on you?”

  “You actually think I could do something like that?”

  “Why not?” Cori said unemotionally. “You always said you’d take any job if it paid enough.”

  “I can’t believe you! That’s cold-blooded murder of dozens of gennies!”

  Cori rose and walked away a few steps, somewhat surprised at Noose’s reaction. “Hey, you’re the uncaring mercenary, not me. Killing off all the Pit Fiends didn’t seem to upset you.”

  “They were a bunch of gangers! They tried to kill me.”

  “Ah,” Cori said, “so you do differentiate between self-defense and mass murder.”

  Noose watched the smirk on her face that she could no longer conceal. He said, “Sedatives must be freaking with my brain. You’re jerking me around.”

  Cori just smiled.

  The dwarf waved at the cup in her hands. “You going to get me a cup of that or stand there giving me grief all morning?”

  “Well, as much fun as it is giving you grief, I guess I could get you something. Have to keep your strength up.” She walked out of the room, only to re-enter moments later with a large cup of steaming hot chocolate.

  Noose took a sip and winced. “What? No whiskey?”

  “Chocolate, hot water, and protein,” Cori informed him. “You don’t need any alcohol.”

  “I’ll argue that later,” Noose replied, sipping the chocolate.

  “So, what were you doing at Stiltzkin’s? Biz?” Cori inquired.

  Noose’s face darkened. “Nobody does biz at Stiltzkin’s.”

  “Pleasure, then,” Cori guessed. “What’s her name?”

  Noose frowned and looked away.

  “What’s the matter, Noose?” Cori asked, concerned by Noose’s behavior.

  Turning to look directly at her, he said flatly, “I was supposed to meet Pamela there.”

  Cori jerked back involuntarily, mouth open. “My sister…?”

  Noose nodded, thin lips pressed tightly together. “But I was ten minutes early, and you know how she’s always late…”

  Cori’s gaze drifted onto the wall above his head. “My sister?”

  Noose reached out and squeezed her arm. “Listen, Cori. I don’t think she was there. It was way too early for her to show up, and you know how she likes to make us guys wait. I checked most of the bod–” He abruptly closed his mouth.

  “Bodies? Is that what you were going to say, Noose?” Her face paled. The empty cup dropped from her hands.

  “She’s fine!” Noose emphasized in a gentle voice. “She wasn’t there! She’s probably home in bed right now.”

  Cori glanced at the vidphone on the nightstand. She punched a button and stared intently at the screen as it dialed and chirped. A moment later, the blue standby screen blinked and the face of an attractive redhead appeared.

  “Pamela!” Cori grinned excitedly, and Noose smiled beside her. “Thank God you’re al–”

  “Hi! In case you’re blind, it’s me, Pamela,” the recorded message said happily, in total disregard for the disappointed expression that quickly spread across Cori’s face. “I’m not near my phone right now, which means I’m probably with some hot fireman or dancing in a club. But you can just leave a nice–”

  Cori’s fist came down hard on the disconnect button, sending the vidphone crashing off the nightstand. With a grim expression on her face, she rose to her feet beside the bed.

  Noose watched her eyes glaze over. “Cori, she probably thinks I was in the blast, and is down at Stiltzkin’s looking for me. We better get down there.”

  “Damn you, Noose! If anything’s happened to Pamela I’m going to take that pipe and ram it down your throat!” She spun around and hurried out of the room.

  Noose flipped the sheets aside and pulled himself to a seated position, head spinning. He steadied himself and tried to stand, only to fall to the floor.

  Barely managing to stay conscious, he dragged himself to the doorway and looked out. Cori sat in front of the sofa, a cable dangling from the neuroport behind her right ear. Her fingers played across a computer keyboard. She was staring straight at him, but he knew she didn’t see the naked dwarf on the floor. It was the infinite reaches of the Internet, piped directly into her brain via keyboard and cable. She wouldn’t leave it until she found out what had happened to her sister.

  6

  Munk drove south down the freeway, heading for the meet. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Grue. I don’t trust Smith.”

  From the van’s enlarged passenger seat beside him, Grue shook his head. “Who does? Ain’t been a fixer hatched that could be trusted further than you could throw him.”

  “But this one just don’t feel right,” Munk insisted. “Regional’s gone ballistic, and they even got Global Marshals involved. Won’t be long before the Peacekeepers roll in. The law ain’t going to stop until they got a perp to fry.”

  Grue squinted at Munk against the glare of sunrise through the tinted windshield. “And…?”

  “And, Smith could just as easily hand us over to the Reggies and save the rest of the ten million.”

  The neohuman mulled over Munk’s words. The man had a very good point, and Grue chastised himself for not realizing it sooner. Their attack on the club last night had hit the global news as one of the worst terrorist strikes of the past decade. Some newsbiffs were even noting that the 2112 Djibouti bombing, with twenty deaths, had eventually escalated into rioting that demolished the metroplex. Every morning show in the world was probably running film of the destroyed club, the victims, the bodies. He and his two friends were the world’s hot ticket, and probably would be for a couple weeks, or until some enraged Ukrainian neobeast gobbled up another European safari.

  “He ain’t gonna double-cross us, Munk. We’d take him down, too.”

  “Crap!” Munk punched the steering wheel, but quickly quieted down. He looked back at Earless, fast asleep on the rear seat. One thing he didn’t want was a conscious, wacked-out pleaser screaming in his ear. “You think Smith don’t have the cops in his pocket? And if he don’t, he’d just scoop on outta here to Switzerland or Arizona. We don’t know his real name, or even who he works for.”

  “But I got his pretty little mug saved right up here,” said Grue, pointing a thick finger to his skull. “Right in digital memory.”

  Munk did not respond.

  “That’s right, good quality, too. Cyber-eye camera comes in handy.” Grue grinned, large teeth flashing.

  “That’s good thinking, Grue,” Munk agreed. “But then what’s to stop Smith from smearing us?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “Sure.” Grue reached back and patted the sleeping pleaser’s head. “Thanks to Earless here, we’ve got nearly a full load of grenades for the Thumper left. You’re gonna take it and watch over Earless and me while we collect the payoff. Anything happens, you start shooting.”

  “And blow you to bits?”

  “Shoot at Smith and his thugs,” Grue amended with a toothy smile. “You could hit a pink poodle in a herd of neorhinos.”

  Munk smiled back. “On a good day.”

  The goon slapped him on the shoulder. “Today is a good day. We’re going to have the rest of the ten meg in our pockets. What could be better than that?”

  “Anastasia
Carpone in the shower?” Munk grinned.

  “There you go!” Grue laughed. “Just relax and dream about Hollywood starlets.”

  “You better be right, Grue,” Munk warned.

  “When have I been wrong?”

  Munk did not answer. Grue had been wrong on many occasions. His greatest mistake was taking the job on Minisoft, and putting Daksha’s life in the incapable hands of Earless. But there was no going back now. This latest job was done, and the money waited. If Smith messed with them now, it’d be just as good to end it, anyway. Munk could still hear the screams of the dying dwarves, and he didn’t like them. They were calling his name, asking why. He had no answer for them, other than the oldest answer in the world.

  I did it for the money. For the damn money.

  7

  By the time Munk turned west onto 285 the radio broadcasts had added five more names to the list of casualties pulled from Stiltzkin’s. Munk shook his head and looked at Grue. The goon seemed unaffected by the mounting death toll, intent only on the passing Atlanta scenery. The cluster of towering super-skyscrapers and arcologies that filled the Atlanta Core glinted in the morning sunlight. Closer at hand, shorter buildings huddled up to the Core like bowing supplicants before a revered god. Amidst it all, at the center of the Core, the Regional Atlanta Metroplex Administration Building, better known as the Peerless Tower, thrust more than two kilometers into the clouds.

  “Gonna be there soon,” Munk noted.

  Grue merely grunted, and continued tapping fingers on his knees.

  The big neohuman was a good, strong friend. Always at Munk’s side, watching his back and providing cover on all of their jobs. But, a job went bad six years ago and they lost many friends. Since then, things had gone downhill. Fixers and megacorps had stopped contracting them to pull their black ops, the money dried up. And without the big money, they couldn’t keep up with the competition. Years ago, Munk had been a cutting edge, state-of-the-art razor, easily capable of taking down any target. But now he was a dinosaur. The corporations, chopdocs, and Global churned out chromers with more metal than meat.