Doctor Who_ Transit - Ben Aaronovitch [28]
Mariko threw the board out on to the track where it hovered over the friction field. Static plumes crackled over its underside, creating harsh atinic flashes. She knew it was the fastest thing in the system, faster even than the data-bus itself. Naran and her were razvedka now, half reconnaissance, half spy, half assassin - all bad. There would be others, she knew that, many others, but they were the first and there was pride in that.
Something tickled her neck. It was Naran, using his tongue to probe the joint between chitinous backplate and helmet. 'Cut that out,' she chided. The tongue whipped back into Naran's mouth with a wet sucking sound.
'We've got things to do,' she told him. 'People to see.'
Naran's eyes were bright as stars.
The Stop
'Don't you have anything with flat heels?' asked Benny.
Zamina looked around the bedroom pulling up the mound'. of clothes that covered every surface. Benny sat on the bed trying on Roberta's shoes. Roberta stood in the doorway wit;" a sour look on her face as her wardrobe was looted. They'd started with Zamina's working clothes but Roberta was more Benny's size. Most of the stuff Benny rejected out of hand before settling on a pair of rose-coloured skintight legging-and a suede button-down shirt. 'At least', said Benny, checking in the mirror, 'you can't see my nipples.'
Zamina held up a pair of slingback sandals. 'What about these?'
'You call that flat?'
'They're low.'
'We've got to look business, I can't look business if I'm falling over my heels,' said Benny, 'can I?' She pointed at a pair of calf boots. 'What about those?'
'Not my boots,' groaned Roberta as Benny fished them out. They were made of black patent leather with solid heels. 'They're too high for you.'
Benny rapped the toe with her knuckle. It rang, and she grinned and pulled the boots on. 'It's a question of balance,' she said, 'balance and attitude.'
Zamina watched the woman testing her weight in front of the mirror. She looked good and it was hard to believe she was as old as thirty.
'Not bad,' said Benny. 'Where's the gun?'
Roberta handed her the pistol and the shoulder holster. 'This is crazy you know,' she said.
Benny buckled on the holster. It was an old military design that hung high on the chest. Someone had cut away the flap and the trigger guard to make it easier to draw. 'You want to stay poor?' asked Benny. 'How long have you and Zamina got on the streets? Two, maybe three, years and then what?'
Zamina stopped listening. She loved the way that Benny handled the pistol. The gangbangers carried their guns as status symbols, using them as a threat to puff up their egos. Zamina doubted they knew how they worked. Benny treated the gun with the respect due to a dangerous tool, she didn't wave it about to frighten people - if she pointed it at you, you were as good as dead.
Benny checked the LCD on the butt, bolstered the weapon and shrugged into Zamina's second-best leather jacket. 'Let's go,' she said.
'What now?' asked Roberta.
'You got an appointment?'
Roberta shook her head.
The jacket had 'Better off Dead' picked out in brass studs on the back. Chains decorated the sleeves and pockets. When Benny moved they chimed in time to her footsteps like ghost spurs. 'Come on,' she said from the doorway.
Out on Williamsberg the remaining skylights had brightened up for the day cycle. The broken lights created a lizard skin pattern of shadows down the street. Benny paused and took a deep breath.
'What we want is a gang,' she said. 'Not too big, not too small - but ambitious.'
'This is crazy,' said Roberta.
'The Dixies,' said Zamina.
'Where's their turf?'
'End of the street,' said Zamina, 'going back as far as Enoch and the shops on Norman.'
'Mean?'
'Stupid,' said Zamina.
'Boys,' said Roberta.
'Sounds perfect,' said Benny.