Mean Streets by Terrance Dicks

Author:Terrance Dicks [Dicks, Terrance]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Fiction, General, Science Fiction, Media Tie-In, Summerfield; Bernice Surprise (Fictitious Character), Women Archaeologists, Organized Crime Investigation
ISBN: 9780426205197
Google: Dnk-YgEACAAJ
Amazon: 0426205197
Publisher: NA
Published: 1997-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

10

SHOOTOUT ON SPACEPORT

BOULEVARD

It started out as one hell of a nice day.

I woke up to the comforting feeling of plenty of credits in

my pocket, and not too much to do except spend some of

them.

I got up slowly, showered without even banging my head

on the ceiling, as I usually do, and got dressed.

When I came through into the office, Cat was sitting on

the balcony sneering at me. Cat was a werecat, a giant,

tangled ball of fur, teeth and claws. Werecats are hunters

and scavengers, about the only form of wildlife tough enough

to survive in Megacity. They‟re said to be untamable.

Cat wasn‟t exactly my werecat - he took care of his own

needs. But he had a taste for booze, and occasionally deigned

to accept some of mine. Maybe they wouldn‟t serve him in

the local bars.

There was a little vragg left in the office bottle so I took

the top off and held it out to him. He jumped off the balcony

and I passed him the bottle. He took it in his handlike

forepaws, sniffed it as if he was used to a better class of

booze, and then emptied the bottle down his throat.

Then he tossed the bottle aside, jumped over the balcony

and disappeared. I liked seeing Cat, though it wasn‟t a close

relationship. He was never going to sit on the mat and purr,

and if you stroked him you‟d probably lose some skin.

I went to the bar across the road for breakfast - coffee,

doughnuts and a quick belt of brandy to get me started.

Old Cy the bartender was a wizened little anthropoid,

damn near as hairy as Cat.

„See what happened last night, Garshak?‟ he wheezed as

he brought my coffee.

Cy always said that - there was always some bad news to

be passed on in Megacity.

„What?‟

„Wolverines hit Sara‟s Cellar, killed some big-time crime

lord called Lucifer.‟

„You sure?‟

Cy nodded to the ever-flickering vidscreen behind the bar.

„Saw it on the news this morning. Blood and bodies

everywhere.‟

I finished my breakfast, thinking about Lucifer meanwhile.

I‟d rather taken to him. Still, he was in a dangerous

business. He was probably bound to get blasted eventually. I

wondered who had ordered the hit. Some business rival,

probably.

Maybe even Nastur.

I had another belt of brandy in his memory, and then went

back to the office to catch up on my foot-dangling and to plan

my day.

A packet popped out of the mail tube.

It held an autoguide disc, nothing else. You put it in your

hovercar‟s guide system and it took you where you needed to

go on automatic. Somebody, somewhere, wanted to see me -

presumably a client. Only I didn‟t have a hovercar any more.

The hell with it, I thought - I‟d go out and buy one. I could

afford it. I‟d buy myself some new clothes as well, make a

good impression on my new employer.

I had the clothes run up on the autotailor in one of the

retro clothes shops at the spaceport. By mid-morning I was

strolling along Spaceport Boulevard. I was everything the

well-dressed private eye ought to be. I was wearing a new

trenchcoat, a new hat, and my pockets were still bulging with

credit notes.

It was a fine morning in downtown Megacity - as fine as

mornings in Megacity ever get.

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