The Mammoth Book of Apocalyptic SF - Mike Ashley [158]
"Nick." She put the bike in neutral, dropping her feet as it rolled to a stop. "Fancy meeting you in the middle of Hell."
"I got some papers for you to sign, Harrie." He pushed his fedora back over his hollow-cheeked face. "You got a pen?"
"You know I do." She unzipped her pocket and fished out the Cross. "I wouldn't lend a fountain pen to just anybody."
He nodded, leaning back against a K-Rail so he could kick a knee up and spread his papers out over it. He accepted the pen. "You know your note's about come due."
"Nick-"
"No whining now," he said. "Didn't I hold up my end of the bargain? Have you ditched your bike since last we talked?"
"No, Nick." Crestfallen.
"Had it stolen? Been stranded? Missed a timetable?"
"I'm about to miss one now if you don't hurry up with my pen." She held her hand out imperiously; not terribly convincing, but the best she could do under the circumstances.
"Mmm-hmmm." He was taking his own sweet time.
Perversely, the knowledge settled her. "If the debt's due, have you come to collect?"
"I've come to offer you a chance to renegotiate," he said, and capped the pen and handed it back. "I've got a job for you; could buy you a few more years if you play your cards right."
She laughed in his face and zipped the pen away. "A few more years?" But he nodded, lips pressed thin and serious, and she blinked and went serious too. "You mean it."
"I never offer what I'm not prepared to give," he said, and scratched the tip of his nose with his thumbnail. "What say, oh - three more years?"
"Three's not very much." The breeze shifted. Her dosimeters crackled. "Ten's not very much, now that I'm looking back on it."
"Goes by quick, don't it?" He shrugged. "All right. Seven—"
"For what?"
"What do you mean?" She could have laughed again, at the transparent and oh-so-calculated guilelessness in his eyes.
"I mean, what is it you want me to do for seven more years of protection." The bike was heavy, but she wasn't about to kick the sidestand down. "I'm sure it's bad news for somebody."
"It always is." But he tipped the brim of his hat down a centimeter and gestured to her saddlebag, negligently. "I just want a moment with what you've got there in that bag."
"Huh." She glanced at her cargo, pursing her lips. "That's a strange thing to ask. What would you want with a box full of research cells?"
He straightened away from the sign he was holding up and came a step closer. "That's not so much yours to worry about, young lady. Give it to me, and you get seven years. If you don't -the note's up next week, isn't it?"
"Tuesday." She would have spat, but she wasn't about to lift her helmet aside. "I'm not scared of you, Nick."
"You're not scared of much." He smiled, all smooth. "It's part of your charm."
She turned her head, staring away west across the sun-soaked desert and the roofs of abandoned houses, abandoned lives. Nevada had always had a way of making ghost towns out of metropolises. "What happens if I say no?"
"I was hoping you weren't going to ask that, sweetheart," he said. He reached to lay a hand on her right hand where it rested on the throttle. The bike growled, a high, hysterical sound, and Nick yanked his hand back. "I see you two made friends."
"We get along all right," Harrie said, patting the Kawasaki's gas tank. "What happens if I say no?"
He shrugged and folded his arms. "You won't finish your run." No threat in it, no extra darkness in the way the shadow of his hat brim fell across his face. No menace in his smile. Cold fact, and she could take it how she took it.
She wished she had a piece of gum to crack between her teeth. It would fit her mood. She crossed her arms, balancing the Kawasaki between her thighs. Harrie liked bargaining. "That's not the deal. The deal's no spills, no crashes, no breakdowns, and every run complete on time. I said I'd get these cells to Sacramento in eight hours. You're wasting my daylight; somebody's life could depend on them."
"Somebody's life does," Nick answered, letting his lips twist aside. "A lot