Hard Luck Hank 03 - Prince of Suck by Steven Campbell

Author:Steven Campbell [Campbell, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2014-12-20T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 36

I was out on a patrol doing patrolly stuff when I got a radio call from Delovoa. He had his own radio of course and his own interrupt frequency for emergencies.

“Hank, come over,” he said without urgency.

“I’m working. What’s up?”

“I have that visitor you said I should warn you about.”

“19-10?” I asked. He was awful calm.

“No, moron. Two Clem?”

“Two Clem is there?”

“What did you think I meant by visitor?”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a bit. Don’t let him leave.”

“How will I stop him?”

“Are you kidding? You have a street full of heavy machine guns and security guards.”

“I’m not going to kill him,” Delovoa said.

“He doesn’t know that. Just wait for me. I won’t be long.”

I talked to the Stair Boys I was with. MTB was still doing his Deadsouth beat so it was just Valia and a dozen people with me.

“I have to go run some errands,” I said. “Keep going to Ostliche’ Avenue.”

“Should we hit the Dog Parke, Boss?” Valia asked.

I was originally going to rough up one of the venues that wasn’t paying their Kommilaire protection fees. I didn’t want them to think that just because my name was getting dragged through the slop, we were going to back down on our usual activities.

However, with me gone, it was just them. And I didn’t want them getting shot up.

“No, just keep a presence. Hang around for a few hours. That should be enough to send a message without provoking a fight.”

“Right.”

I headed to the train. I wanted to do as little walking as possible.

In the past, I was pretty confident that if I had a heart attack and fell down somewhere in the city, I would be reasonably safe. I was a folk hero after all.

But with all the Judge Naeb and Su Dival and Garm and election nonsense, I didn’t want to risk a crowd of people standing over my drooling form trying to figure out how to kill me.

I got to Delovoa’s and was met by the usual handsome young men.

I was taken to a rear apartment where Two Clem and Delovoa were lounging and supping on wine and crackers.

Two Clem was not young. He had been a celebrity maybe a century ago, or even longer than that. Still, he didn’t look bad. Whether a combination of good genes, or drugs, or surgeries, he certainly appeared a lot better than I did after the same span of time.

“Two Clem,” I said, entering the room. “It’s good to see you again.”

He gave me an uninterested half-glance and went back to speaking to Delovoa.

“Uh, Hank,” Delovoa interjected, on my behalf, “have you met my guest? Two Clem, this is our Supreme Kommilaire and Secretary of City.”

This time he didn’t even acknowledge me.

“It’s been a pleasure as always, Delovoa. I’ll talk to you again soon,” Two Clem said.

With that, he wiped his mouth and removed some crumbs from his outfit, which I noticed was rather subdued from the clothing I had seen him wear in the past. Though our styles tend to change after eighty years.

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