The Human Blend - Alan Dean Foster [10]
It wasn’t going to matter. Having safely reached the scoot waiting in a far corner of the small parking area, Jiminy slipped inside, threw one melded leg over the seat, and powered it up. Dashing toward his partner would send the security cat scrambling on all four paws to get out of the way. With the pack containing the still unfenced hand slung across his back, the Cricket accelerated. Emitting a softly rising whine the scoot headed toward Whispr.
Then veered away, heading for the raised access road that led south and away from the shop.
Surrounded by lethal felines a dumbfounded Whispr looked on as the two-person vehicle continued to pick up speed. He did not call out. He was too stunned, and there was no point. It was not as if Jiminy had forgotten about him. It was not as if Whispr had been overlooked.
There is something about the act of wanton abandonment by a friend that beggars comment. The orphaned can go to wrack and ruin in an orgy of loud recrimination, or respond with silent acceptance. It was not in Whispr’s nature to do the first, and he did not have the intelligence to offer more than the latter.
Instead, he continued to stand there, gaping dumbly at the swiftly receding silhouette of the speeding scoot. Jiminy would hit an intersection and strike off safely away from the incoming police, leaving Whispr alone and isolated to answer their questions. Swallower had already as much as declared that if pressed by the arriving authorities he would not hesitate to categorize his recent visitors as nothing more than potential thieves, and that as a consequence he was relieved to welcome the police onto his premises.
Was it possible, Whispr wondered, that the approach of authority in such numbers had nothing to do with his and Jiminy’s presence? Might the city or state be mounting a raid on Swallower’s establishment for reasons that had nothing to do with his latest visitors? It would be easy enough to find out. All he had to do was stand right where he was and await their arrival.
For someone who had been raised in indigent surroundings and who upon maturity had drifted into a lifestyle charitably described as unsociable, this was not an option. Espying one corner of the parking area that was not infested with Swallower’s damnable killer cats, Whispr bolted in its direction, put both hands on the molded plastic railing, and without hesitation leaped over the side.
TOO BAD ABOUT WHISPER, Jiminy thought as he urged the scoot onward. Behind and beneath him the finely tuned engine whined softly as it carried him south. The willow man had been a good companion, always helpful on jobs, never extending himself beyond the limits of what he knew he could do. That was the trouble with so many contacts in Jiminy’s business. Intoxicated from absorbing one too many popent plays, they all too often made the mistake of confusing entertainment with real life. Or worse, conflating the two. Be they Natural or Meld, successful lawbreakers were the ones whose names and faces you never saw splashed across the media because they never got caught. Jiminy was perfectly content to languish in prosperous anonymity. To maintain that enviable status one sometimes had to make sacrifices. Friends, family—in this instance, Whispr. Cricket knew he could find a new partner more easily than he could handle incarceration.
He smiled to himself as the scoot angled sharply to the left as it automatically leaned into a turn. Whispr’s internment wouldn’t cost the state much. They could lock him up in a closet. Or a golf bag.
He saw the police search unit before he heard it. Swift and nearly noiseless, it went right past him, the bright light from its belly illuminating the water and stultified swamp that flanked the narrow roadway on either side. Then it swung around in a wide arc to come up behind him. Moments later his vehicle was undergoing a scan from a wide, diffuse laser as bright as day. He hunched down as low as he could in the driver’s seat and muttered a curse. There was no way he could outrun the robot searcher. If they would just