Ghosts of Manhattan by George Mann

Author:George Mann [Mann, George]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: SteamPunk, Fiction, Fantasy, General, Science Fiction, Mystery & Detective, New York (N.Y.), Organized crime
ISBN: 9781906727154
Publisher: Snowbooks
Published: 2010-01-31T13:00:00+00:00

he Ghost watched as Donovan crumpled to the ground, suddenly free of the lumbering moss golems. The mobsters were in disarray, waving their weapons around in the darkness as they tried desperately to spot their attacker. The remaining golem was stomping ponderously across the rooftop toward him, as if somehow drawn to him, as if it instinctively knew where he was concealed behind a stand of holotube aerials. Most likely, it had calculated the trajectory of the flechette that had destroyed its partner. The Ghost smiled to himself. Perhaps the moss men were more intelligent than the mobsters, after all.

He swung his arm out, brandishing the long brass barrel of his flechette gun in the direction of the oncoming golem. He squeezed the trigger, releasing a shower of silvery blades. They zipped through the night air, twinkling in the starlight, embedding themselves in the moss thing with a series of tiny dull thuds. The moss man continued to lurch toward him. The Ghost counted the seconds, three, two, one...

The golem detonated in a flash of light, scattering mud, clay, and brass over the surrounding rooftop. Tiny cogs and clockwork components tinkled in a shower over the nearby mobsters, pattering down on them like obscene rain. As one they raised their voices in alarm. One of them let loose with his tommy gun, spraying a nearby chimneystack with bullets, more out of sheer desperation than any real sense that the brickwork concealed his invisible assailant.

The Ghost allowed himself a wide grin. The explosive rounds had delivered exactly the result he'd hoped for.

He peered between the metal struts of the transmitters and caught sight of Gideon Reece, standing over the policeman, a tiny silver pistol held aloft. He couldn't get a bead from his position behind the aerial cluster. Nor did he want to finish Reece, at least not before he'd had chance to question him. Reece was his ticket to the Roman, his only lead.

He needed a distraction.

The Ghost leapt out from behind the forest of wires, loosing a spray of flechettes into the air. They scattered on the ground in a wide semicircle around Reece and Donovan, and seconds later went up in a pyrotechnic display, flashing brilliantly in the darkness, the pattering boom echoing away across the adjoining rooftops. Reece, panicked, glanced from side to side, spotting the Ghost in the stuttering light. He squeezed the trigger of his pistol, but his aim was wide in the smoky aftermath of the explosions. The distraction was exactly what Donovan had been waiting for, however. The policeman, finally coming to his senses, leapt to his feet and charged Reece, bowling him over and sending them both careening across the flagstones. The Ghost moved just in time to miss a storm of lead, spat from the mouth of a tommy gun. The goons had likely spotted the red glow of his goggles, bobbing in the darkness.

The Ghost rushed to where Donovan was lying on his back, nursing his wounded shoulder. The man looked pale.

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