As whole floors of buildings exploded around us the hostile fire began to thin out, and the cars concentrated on wasting the men who began appearing in the streets, running like hell away from us. One lunatic jumped onto our car from a second-floor window and tried to fire his rocket launcher through the window. Fyd, who’d finished calmly digging the bullet out of his chest, punched his fist through the one-inch glass and the man’s body flew gracefully into the wall of the building we were screeching past. Most, but not all, of it then fell to the ground.
‘Okay,’ said Ji calmly, ‘tell car four to turn around and head back out, in case anyone’s running that direction. Tell one and three to drop back in formation to flank us.’
The three cars pelted down the street into the heart of Hu, mowing down anything in their way. I would have hated to have been on the other side. To be running through hell on earth, half deafened by the sound of three pursuing armoured cars owned by the most dangerous man in Red, that can’t be much fun. That must be a dismal feeling. Luckily, the feeling would have been of short duration as they were all put out of their misery very quickly.
‘Stop,’ said Ji quietly, and the cars halted instantaneously. There was a moment of quiet as Ji cocked his head and listened to whatever jungle instinct it is that men like him have. Around us the streets were empty but for pieces of dead people and blazing rubble, the stonework red with blood and the flickering of burning debris. ‘Okay,’ he said finally, satisfied, ‘let’s go.’
Fyd dealt out the weapons. He offered me a Crunt Launcher but I patted my holster, and he shrugged. When everyone was armament positive another guard opened the door and we got out. The other three guards were already waiting for us, and Ji and I stepped into their shadow. Ji took a quick look around, then nodded at a building to our left.
‘There,’ he said.
We walked slowly towards the building, the guards behind us facing backwards, Crunt Launchers cocked. Just before we reached the door of the building there was a belt of noise from one of the launchers, and the sound of a scream mingled with an explosion on the other side of the street.
‘Nice one, Bij,’ said Ji, without even turning round.
‘Thank you, sir.’
There was a small fire in the ground floor of the building, but it didn’t look like it was going to get out of hand. There was nothing to burn. Just stone walls, anything movable stolen decades ago. It looked like it must have been an office block a hundred years ago, back when people lived around here. There was kind of a weird smell about the place, but otherwise it didn’t look that special. But Ji knows these things: I don’t know how, he just does.
We headed for the stairs and moved slowly up them, still in formation. The second floor was deserted. The smell was worse here and I raised my eyebrows at Ji.
‘Think we’ve found somebody’s store cupboard,’ he said.
He was right. On the third floor the steps stopped, and we had to cross the floor to get up any further. We walked quietly into the first office area, and suddenly the guards moved with one mind and we were crouched into a knot behind the door, Ji and I surrounded on all sides. Then slowly the guards straightened.
‘Sorry about that, sir,’ Fyd said. ‘False alarm.’
We looked around the office. It was dark, the only light coming from the fires still raging outside. The floor was covered with human shapes, and the smell was terrible.
‘That’s okay,’ said Ji. ‘Nice moving, anyway.’
Forced to proceed in single file, we threaded our way across the floor. Something combustible caught outside and the fire flared up, throwing red and orange light across the room.
On the floor there were about forty bodies, mainly adults, though there were a few babies too. Many were missing their clothes, and each body had its face cut off to reveal dry bone below. Most were made up distinctively, with blue lipstick smeared across the remains of the gums, and green eyeshadow around the decaying eyeballs. All the women had screwdrivers sticking out of their abdomens, and all the men had their hands power-stapled together.
I thought at first the babies had been set on fire, but as we neared the other side of the room I noticed a change in the general condition of the bodies. They got older and more rotted, and also more obviously chewed. This particular human being was storing his kills and eating the oldest ones first, the babies cooked, the adults raw and seething with maggots. I wondered where he was now: out in Red somewhere, trawling for more, stocking up for the winter. I’m a broadminded guy, but honestly, some people.
We made it to the steps and went up to the fourth floor. All was quiet. Just before we stepped onto the fifth Ji froze and listened.
‘Okay,’ he whispered. ‘End game.’
Bij and another guard stepped out first. A rocket shell zipped between their heads and straight through the wall behind them. Rather than flinch, they sublimated their irritation into blasting the shit out of the room with Crunts. When they judged it clean we joined them.
What was left of the office showed signs of habitation, and of preparations for an assault. Empty gun cases lay piled around the room, bits of food, clothing. A dim light shone from the office beyond, and Ji strode towards the door, leaving us behind. There was a tiny sound from behind some crates in one corner of the room and acting purely instinctively I threw myself into a roll and came up just in front of Ji, gun pointing into the darkness. The flicker of a laser sight appeared on Ji’s chest and I fired five bullets into the shadows. The last gang member toppled slowly out onto the floor. Ji looked down at me and nodded.
With the guards behind us we kicked the door open. The office was empty apart from an armchair, with a table beside it supporting a lamp that cast a pool of luminous light. Someone was sitting in the chair.
‘Hello, Ji,’ said a voice I recognised. ‘Hi, Stark. Hey, nice shirt.’
‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ bellowed Ji, as we stepped closer to the chair. I peered at the bulky figure lounging aggressively in it, observing its air of incipient violence and the green numbers on its forehead.
‘Jesus fucking Christ!’ I shouted. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’
‘Jesus fucking Christ, Snedd!’ yelled Ji, slightly more calmly. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?’
‘Well,’ said Snedd, clicking his fingers, ‘that’s sort of a greeting, I guess. Drinks?’
‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ I said again. It was the only thing which seemed appropriate. I might have gone on saying it for days if Ji hadn’t changed the subject. Abruptly he grinned, and shook his brother’s hand.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Alcohol. And you better have a good explanation for this.’
A small and very frightened-looking man of about seventy appeared from out of the shadows, bearing a tray with a pitcher of alcohol and several glasses on it. He set it down soundlessly on the table and disappeared again.
‘Snedd,’ I said as Fyd poured the drinks, ‘you could have killed us all.’
‘Oh crap,’ said Snedd. ‘They weren’t supposed to be fighting you at all. As soon as I heard who was coming I told everyone to run for their own safety. I only know one person more dangerous than me, and that’s Ji. Thanks very much, by the way: I spent two weeks building up that gang and you’ve wiped them out in five minutes. Cheers.’
‘Cheers yourself, bastard,’ said Ji, and we drank.
A word of explanation is probably in order here. Snedd is Ji’s younger brother. Apart from the fact that he swears slightly less and has green numbers on his forehead, they are almost exactly alike. I know Snedd from my time in Turn, when Ji and I were working together. I hadn’t seen him in eight years, and hadn’t expected to