The party was going full blast. The barroom floor was packed with bikers, autoduellists and their dates. It was a sea of rippling leather, denim and combat mesh. Its tide was governed by the beat of Jim Croce. Dooley the barkeep was trying to spark a one-woman Croce revival, and it was worth your life to say a word against him.
I pulled close to the bar as my pal Hammer hustled the last guy to mess around with Jim. The music critic was held firmly, fully horizontal and accelerating towards the closed door.
Archer opened the door for the guy just as he entered free flight and sailed through the open space in a perfect trajectory. Archer was a kind soul--it was his bachelor party. It isn't often we Driving Tigers lose a member to marriage. We were marking the occassion with this bash. Dooley was marking the occassion by making us pay cash in advance.
Archer sat next to me beaming. He held a technicolor drink, his other hand slapped my back. You needed a strong back to hang around him.
"Thanks for the great party, Lucky," he slurred. We clinked glasses amiably.
"Don't drink too much now. You've got a big day tomorrow." Getting married drunk would be the coward's way out.
"Holly's a wonderful girl... She's too good for me."
"I'm sure she knows, how you feel I mean. Just be careful with that stuff. You're not used to it." A Poughkeepsie mutant couldn't get used to the stuff he was drinking.
"Oh, and you are?" He lowered his voice. "Remember the time you got wasted, and I convinced you Dooley was making a pass at you?"
Remember? Hell yes! Having a gyroslugger jammed up your nose is something you remember. Fortunately, nature called and I bowed out gracefully in the direction of the john.
It was dark and smokey in the back. As I passed the storeroom, someone pulled me in. Usually my reflexes work better, but it was a kicking party, and I had done more kicking than most. I was pressed against the wall by a body I knew.
"Hi, Holly." She had a black coverall on and her blonde hair was gathered under a black scarf. Her eyes were green, which meant trouble.
"What's going on out there?"
"It's called a bachelor party."
"Where did all those women come from?"
"Bachelors brought them. Isn't it bad luck for you to see him now?"
"That's likely," she said. She abruptly released me and peeked out the storeroom door. Her whole manner softened. She was looking at Archer.
"He looks so innocent." I looked over her shoulder. She was right. It's hard to look like you're up to something when you're passed out and face down.
Holly turned around, took my hand in hers. A few whisps of gold hair hung out of place. She was blocking the way to the can.
"Lucky, please promise me you'll get him to the church on time tomorrow. I know all brides worry about the groom arriving..."
"Hey, you've got more to worry about than most brides," I admitted. "Besides, it can't be much harder then a repo job. I promise." She gave a small sigh. Appreciation shone in her eyes.
"Now would you please let me go to the bathroom?"
After I took care of my business and showed Holly the window in the men's room you could jimmy open and climb out, I went back to Archer. He was still snoozing. I thought about my promise a while, then I set his wristwatch one day ahead. I was entitled to some fun.
Discontinuity, the inky dreamless kind.
I woke up and knew I'd had a good time. It felt like a Division 60 amateur night was being held in my head. My bed felt hard like armorplas. I rolled over, trying to find a comfortable position and fell on the floor.
I had been sleeping on the hood of the car and was now on the garage floor. Good thing. I had a hell of a time getting my car out of the bedroom last time.
With a creak, the inner door leading to my apartment opened. The sound rattled my brain. At the same time I realized I was in my shorts. There were a dozen connections between my state of undress and the person entering that I leapt to. I stopped in mid-leap when I saw who it was. Hammer. He was wearing my robe, which barely reached his knees. It didn't do anything for me.
"What... happened?" I asked, sweeping my hands to include myself and the garage. Hammer walked over to my work table and scrutinized an F-4 Phantom model plane I was working on.
"You were car surfing," he said, lifting the plane gently. I put my head on the car hood in despair. "Most impressive. Especially shouting 'I'm a hood ornament!'"
There was a loud knock on the door. It sounded like someone used a ramplate to knock and I spent a moment wondering what county my brain would land in. I hit the door control.
A white Bombshell was parked in the driveway, its bumper flush with the door. I recognized it. The door had only risen as far as the bumper, but I've dived under a lot of bumpers. Before the door cleared waist height, Holly ducked under it.
She was still wearing he black jumpsuit and was holding a double-barelled gyroslugger. She didn't say a word until she swept the garage's four corners.
"Where the hell is Archer?" she said venomously.
"Hammer, have you seen my pants anywhere?" Hammer shrugged and turned back to the model. I began to hunt the odd corners of the room.
Holly held her menacing crouch for a minute while we went about our business. She relaxed by stages. It's very hard to look dangerous when you're ignored.
"Okay, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come in here like a homicidal maniac. Making wedding plans can do that to you." She paused a moment. "What happened to your clothes?"
I decided to change the subject. "So, you can't find Archer?"
"No. No one's seen him since last night. I was hoping you knew."
"Hey, first things first--namely my pants."
"Your pants? What about your promise?"
"Hey, you were keeping me out of the can, and my back teeth were floating. I call that extortion."
Holly calmly leaned the 'slugger against my head. "Lucky, I have a mind to blow a hole in your ceiling."
"And my brains would fly out, leaving you to find your own husband." My shirt was on the clunker's front seat. I shrugged into it. Holly holstered the gyroslugger and sat down.
"Listen, I wasn't going to tell you this. You know, trade secrets and all, but I planted a nano-bug on Archer last night. I can lock onto it with my tracer and find him any time."
With surprising force, Holly caught me in a bear hug, babbling something that sounded ego-enhancing. After admitting I was a genius, she bustled off, her feminine impulses in overdrive.
I hadn't lied about bugging Archer. It was one of my last coherent memories. Unfortunately, my little electronic bird-dog was in my pants pocket. I commented on this to Hammer along with a few suggestions on how he could get off his butt and help me look.
In answer, Hammer walked over to the car, bent down and fished around underneath. With a flourish, he dragged Archer's prone form out. Archer was asleep on my dolly. Clutched lovingly in his arms were my pants.
"Well, there's a perfectly good nano-bug shot to hell."
"Can't you get it back?" Hammer asked.
"I don't want it! I got Archer to think it was an anti-hangover pill. He swallowed it." I pulled my pants free. "Just watch Sleeping Beauty. I'm going to his place to get his clothes."
It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, and I had gotten off easy on my promise to Holly. I decided to walk the few blocks to Archer's. As I bounded up the stoop to Archer's digs, I let out a low whistle for Fuzz, Archer's dog by virtue of squatter's rights. He was small, sort of yellow, and usually in danger of being stepped on. Archer had promised to give him to Holly as a wedding present. Even if she married someone else.
Strangely, Fuzz wasn't around. I stooped over to get the spare key from under the welcome mat, but it wasn't there. As I was feeling around for it, the door opened. At first, I thought it was Holly, but the legs were far too tree-like. Before I could look up, thunder thighs stepped forward and aimed a kick to my head.
I dodged aside, and my assailant wedged his boot in the railing. I yanked the welcome mat out from under his other leg. Poetic justice.
Another goon was stepping through the door, pistol in hand. I threw the mat in his face. He took a step back, tripped over Fuzz and fell over the first guy.
I thought something cold might revive the poor guy. I tried my gun barrel in his ear. Fuzz was happily licking my face, and I had to push him aside. As I did so, I noticed an Intimidator wagon across the street tracking me with its turret laser. I put my questions and threats on hold, grabbed the dog and dove through the door. The laser melted the door lintel.
I couldn't tell if the intruders had trashed the living room or if it was just the normal mess. Perched on top of a pile of clothes was a pristine tuxedo. With a practiced motion, I tossed Fuzz onto the sofa and grabbed the tux. A magnum round split the air where my head had just been. Doormat was in the door.
"Kill, kill!" I ordered Fuzz as I ran for the back window. I flipped a gas grenade over my shoulder as I dove out. After landing on the ground, something heavy hit me between the shoulders--I was shot!
Then I realized there was no bang, and bullets don't lick the back of your neck. A cloud of tear gas billowed out the window followed by typical shots in the dark. As I jumped over the backyard fence, I pegged a few shots in the window just to keep things hot. They probably wouldn't hit each other, but I could hope. Fuzz crawled under the fence and followed eagerly.
Okay, they were goons after Archer. Obviously, they wanted to find him before the wedding, but I didn't know why. If they were being methodical, they'd check his place, the church, Dooley's. Maybe they'd follow Holly.
Holly had just been to my place. I picked up my pace as I ran across Gerrittsen Avenue and onto my street. When I got to my block, I switched to stealth mode. Being a repo-man did develop your crawling muscles. At the end of the block was a nauseatingly familiar Intimidator. Two goons were hustling a limp Archer into the back. Fuzz barked happily at the sight of his master. In reflex, I lashed out at him with a swift kick.
"Sorry," I apologized. "Force of habit." The Intimidator was pulling out. I could stand up and blaze away at it with my 9 mm BlasTech like a video hero. I always wondered how video heros avoided being toasted by turret lasers. It pulled away, leaving me powerless. It was even too far away to get the license number.
Then, I noticed my garage door half open. Hammer! I ran up dreading what I might find. What I found was Hammer putting the finishing touches on my model jet fighter. He turned about surprised by my sudden entrance.
"Archer!" I gasped and sat down, throwing the tux into the clunker.
"Didn't you see him outside?" Hammer asked, puzzled. "Damnedest thing. He woke up, looked at his watch, screamed and ran out. Wedding jitters, I guess."
I began throwing Hammer his combat armor. I filled him in between gasps as he suited up. We jumped into the clunker... and sat there. We had no idea where the Intimidator had gone. Hammer adopted his thoughtful look.
There was a bark outside the car. I threw open the door and Fuzz bounced into my lap. "That's it! Fuzz can track Archer! He's a dog--Fuzz, I mean. Dogs can do that sort of thing! Good old Fuzz!" I scratched behind his ears. Hammer was staring at me.
"Why don't you just use your tracer?"
Oh. Right. I took it from my pocket, switched it on, and got the signal.
"Useless!" I said, pushing Fuzz out the window.
The tracer indicated that Archer was no longer moving. Judging from the short time they had driven, they were still in the neighborhood. Gerrittsen Beach is a sleepy, working neighborhood built on a peninsula, bounded by water on three sides, and Gerritsen Avenue was the only way out unless your car is part dolphin.
No one pulling a snatch would stay in the neighborhood only to be boxed in and caught. But ambush was a possiblity, so I slowed up and scoped out the narrow length of Channel Avenue. We were right on the water. The houses on one side all had small docks in back. Soon, we were in front of the Marina. Cabin cruisers were moored in orderly rows, bumping gently against their docks, water lapping against their armored sides. The tracer pegged a fifty-foot cruiser.
It was black and sat low in the water. Its turreted vulcan stood against the sky like a shark's fin. An armored and heavily-armed guard sat by the turret trying to look nonchalant.
"Stay here and cover me," I said, grabbing my shades and baseball cap. I hopped out and strolled along the boardwalk.
"Hey, Captain. Whose boat is this?" I asked hte Harbor chief. He followed my pointing finger. When he saw the boat, he cleared his throat loudly before grunting out a name I knew well. A name that made loans where the interest rates were higher than the borrower's IQ. If something could be bet on, he'd have a piece of it. And a piece of you or your car. I had repossessed cars for him but quit before I could get to like the money.
I walked over, wondering how much of the cruiser I had paid for. The lone guard got up as I approached. His face had a familiar pattern of welts.
"Hello, Doormat," I said brightly. "Tell the Squid I want to talk to him now." He didn't move. There was a hot, burning look in his eyes that promised a destructive error in judgment. He fingered his assault rifle. Then the hatch clanged open behind him, the Squid climbed out on deck. Doormat stepped aside, keeping his eyes on me.
"Lucky! Long time, no see." He pumped my hand with his ringed hand.
"Squid, I thought you got that name by never letting go and having a lot of feelers out."
He laughed and removed his shades. Then, he was all business. "What are you here for?"
"A friend. I suspect he's taking an ocean voyage. But he has a wedding today. I'd like to find him." The Squid nodded his head in sympathy.
"Lucky, I think I know your friend. You know he owes me a little money? Ten grand." I was shocked, but I guessed that Archer wanted a fine wedding.
"Now," Squid continued, "your friend is well-liked. Maybe if his wedding guests get together, they can raise this money. It would be like an investment in his future."
The sun seemed to dim a bit. I carefully removed my sunglasses. Then, in one swift motion, I pulled out my machine pistol and rammed it into the Squid's stomach. He didn't flinch and I could feel the armorplas lining of his jacket. With a sharp motion, he waved his goons back.
"What about your future, Squid?" He smiled a patronizing smile. I heard the hum of the boat's turret tracking.
"Walk away," he hissed. "Walk away and come back with the money. Perhaps I'll forget this and your pal will leave with both hands."
I jammed the weapon back in its holster, turned on my heel and strode away. Hammer was waiting. He let out a long breath as I climbed in.
"The Squid?" he asked.
"Yeah. I wonder why everything I do always haunts me later." The clock showed three hours till the wedding. I was stuck with a groom on a boat. My clunker's missile launchers could make things hot for them, but only until they sailed away. They would ditch Archer the moment they reached deep water.
Two hours later, the clunker came rolling up to the dock. I got out, briefcase in hand, and slumped over to the shark ship. Behind me, Hammer sat perched on the hood of the car, feet resting on the bumper. Doormat was still there, only smiling. I held my empty hand out palm up, and he tapped the open hatch.
The Squid considered me carefully before he came out of the hatch. I looked over my shoulder. Hammer waved both his empty hands. When I looked back, the VMG was aimed squarely at me. Sort of flattering. Squid reached for the case and I offered it. He looked at me slyly then stepped back.
"You open it."
I complied and turned the case around so Squid could see the pile of money. Squid and his gunner and his guard. I waited as he leaned close enough to see that the money was real. What he saw was stage money. Then I hit the hidden button on the side of the case. It was at this point the Squid learned the money was soaked in highly flammable chemicals. They went up with a flash bright enough to hurt through closed eyelids. Fortunately, I was spared, being behind the case cover. Squid and his goon yelled. The vulcan went off over my head as I dropped.
The flash wouldn't blind the gunner for long. I saw Hammer jump on the clunker's bumper--more specifically, the bumper triggers. The missile launchers opened up on the cruiser. The first barrage blew Doormat off the deck into the water. Squid dove through the hatch as the concussion of the blast picked me up and away from the boat.
The boat engines started up as I crawled under the stream of missiles and bullets. The vulcan was chattering at the clunker. Hammer had gotten inside and was aiming the missiles. Already the turret showed cracks. The boat rocked like crazy.
The cruiser pulled out, snapping the mooring line and swerving away with a roar. The vulcan fired a parting barrage then went silent. I jumped up, ran for the clunker, and climbed behind the wheel.
"So much for blind and conquer," Hammer said.
"What was the idea of firing before I was clear?" I yelled, shifting into drive. The Squid's boat was passing behind several other cruisers, blocking our line of fire. At the end of the street, the marina opened into the canal. If I could get there first, I could blockade Squid.
"I missed you by a foot easy," Hammer muttered.
Squid triggered his jet drive. With a wash of spray, the boat stood on end and shot ahead of us. It was the first time I ever saw a jet drive in action. Change of plans. I pulled a one-g U-turn, headed back down the street to Gerritsen Avenue. I shot through a stop sign and hung a hard left. I kissed a hub cap goodbye and screamed down to Avenue W. I cut two cars off with my impromptu left turn and got a few angry shouts and small-caliber protests.
"You damned near killed me," I replied, turning onto Knapp Street. On the left was the canal leading down from the marina into Dead Horse Bay. The shark ship roared behind docked boats making for the bay, but we were pulling ahead.
"I never came that close, and you just ran a red light." I was starting to get annoyed. Squid had no lights to worry about.
"You never can say,'Oops.'" I responded calmly. We streaked through another light and someone fired a noisy weapon into our side armor.
At the end of Knapp street was the entrance to the Belt Parkway, which spanned Dead Horse Bay. The multiplex and the landscape blocked our view of the bay as we jounced onto the Parkway and turned onto the bridge. With a lurch, we bounced onto the shoulder and scraped to a stop against the guardrail.
I bounded out of the clunker, ducked through the traffic, and reached the bay side of the bridge. Squid was coming. Hammer came up behind me, a large demo charge in his hands. Without a word, he armed it and threw it over the guardrail.
"You threw it too soon!" I said. "It only had a five second delay." He glowered at me.
The cruiser was still closing in on the bridge when the demo charge went up. A wave of water slammed into its prow, caving it in. The bridge lifted under me and suddenly I fell into the water and went under. In a reflex action, I kicked out. My feet touched bottom. I stood up, realizing dimly I was on a sand bar near one of the bridge supports. The water came up to my chest.
"Hey, Lucky. Oops!" Hammer yelled from somewhere.
The Squid's cruiser was still bearing down on the bridge... and me. Up above a section of bridge support gave way falling across the mouth of the bay, blocking it.
The Squid learned a basic truth. Boats don't brake very well. He threw it into reverse and caused the cruiser to sideslip right into the debris. The boat rebounded off shipping water, its hull breached. Then, much slower, it aimed towards me.
Damn.
I went for my BlasTech, thinking this would make a dramatic final moment, but it was gone. Then there was a crash as the cruiser piled up on the sand bar.
This time it was pulling away. Its engine was making a strangled whine. Squid climbed out and stood on the deck facing me. Two more goons climbed out behind him and slipped into the water.
"All we have to do is kill you and follow the sandbar to shore," he said. His goons levelled assault rifles at me. "This is where you get yours."
"It's going to be hard walking to shore with all the sharks," I said thoughtfully. The goons stopped wading towards me. "You shoot me, I bleed, sharks come. Sharks aren't choosy about whether their dinner is moving or not." The goons looked towards Squid. He never faltered.
"Grab him and drown the bastard. I'm going to get our guest." He made his way to the hatch. A massive hand reached out of the water and grabbed his ankle. Squid squealed as Hammer broke surface and slammed him to the deck. Squid squashed.
I turned my attention back to Squid's goons. I was ready to register my annoyance with a concussion grenade when they suddenly realized their boss was being made into a stain and decided to forget me and swim for shore. I got to save my grenade.
"Oops?" I said when I joined Hammer.
Archer made his arrival at the church on time. On the hood of my car. Kind of romantic, besides the car only seated two. Car surfing can be useful. Heads turned as Hammer and I got out of the clunker and a flood of water poured out onto the sidewalk.
Triumphant and slightly mildewed, Hammer and I climbed the steps to the church. Hammer brushed seaweed off his shoulder pad, ignoring the wrinkling noses and stares.
"You know," he said. "I'm going to enjoy getting my kiss from the bride."
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