Spares - Michael Marshall Smith [54]
“Cool. A present,” said Nearly, voice languorous but loud. “Aren’t you going to open it?”
“Where’s Suej?” I asked.
“In the back,” Howie said. “Eating red beans and rice.”
“Have you checked on her lately?”
“No, why? What’s wrong?”
I picked up the parcel and walked quickly into a quieter area of the bar. The box was heavy, something solid inside. As I opened it I heard Howie in the background sending Dath to check on Suej. Time seemed to be speeding up, rushing toward something that I couldn’t yet see.
I opened the box.
“Holy fuck,” said Howie, who was by then standing behind me. Howie has seen unwelcome things, but I’d never heard him sound like that. At the tone in his voice Nearly teetered off her stool at the bar and headed toward us.
I closed the box, hands shaking. There are many things you don’t want to see on Rapt. This was something you don’t want to see at all. Something so unnecessary, so indefensible, that my eyes seemed to dry as if in a strong wind.
It was Nanune’s head.
Howie kept staring at the box, mouth open. Slowly he turned his head toward me. “Who the fuck’s that?”
“One of the spares. Someone who did no harm to anyone in her entire miserable life.” Without knowing I was going to I lashed out a foot and kicked one of the tables across the room. This left me very calm and still, humming with murderousness. Half the bar stared at me, trying to work out if I was dangerous or just experimentalist cabaret. “Did the fucker who left this say he was coming back?”
Howie shook his head, still dazed. “No, thank God.”
“Then I’m going to go and find him,” I said, lightheaded with fury and remorse. There are times when the higher mind goes on holiday, sensing it’s the reptile brain which is required. The man with the blue head had the spares, and he was going to kill them. Why, I didn’t know. But it was clear that that’s what he was going to do, and likely that he’d killed Mal, too. That was enough for me.
“Jack?” I turned to see Suej hurrying toward us, Dath behind her.
“Howie,” I hissed. “Get rid of that fucking box.” But Suej had already seen it, and seen me. She knew what I looked like when something was very wrong.
“What’s in there?” she asked.
Suddenly, there was a shout from the front door and Paulie entered at the run, hand reaching into his jacket.
“Howie,” he said urgently. “We got trouble.”
“Who?”
“Four of Vinaldi’s soldiers.”
“So? I’ve paid the man.”
“I don’t think they’re coming to collect.” Paulie’s eyes flicked across to me. “Not money, anyway.”
Howie had just enough time to start asking me what the hell I’d done now, before the front window of the bar exploded, showering colored glass over the nearest patrons. In slow motion I reached for Suej, grabbing her and yanking her round so my body was between her and the door. I saw Howie’s and Dath’s hands emerging with heavy guns, and I saw Nearly’s face, mouth hanging open, alone in a moment of truth. Things could get worse than everyday life, and that’s just what they were about to do. Without thinking I reached out and grabbed her, too.
“Go!” shouted Howie. “Out the back!”
The last half of the sentence was drowned by the noise of the other large window imploding. Ten yards away, out in the street, stood a line of Vinaldi’s men. Loving every moment, serious as children playing their favorite game. The bar was chaos, swirling with shouting people trying to get the hell out of the way.
“Fuck off,” I said. “This is my problem.”
Howie pivoted toward me. “Just run, for once in your damn life. And take Nearly with you.” He lashed out an arm and shoved me heavily in the chest before turning to push his way with Dath to join Paulie at the door. At the sight of the three of them, I realized there wasn’t much I could add. I grabbed Suej’s arm.
“You coming?” I asked Nearly.
“Oh, yes,” she said, eyes still on the men outside.