Koko Takes a Holiday (23 page)

Flynn lays the chit Koko gave him on the counter.

“Uh, it seems I have this rental coupon here…”

The blonde clerk picks up the chit and swipes it under the scanner squared in front of her. “Yeth-yeth, you do. Indeed, you do. Let’th look now…” The clerk stops.

“Is something wrong?” Flynn asks.

The clerk looks up and bats her eyes. “Oh, no-no. It’th nothing.”

“Boy, I sure hope nothing’s wrong,” Flynn haws. “I know how expensive these strat-sled rentals can be, but my boss gave me the coupon as sort of a retirement gift. See, I recently left
Alaungpaya
Security Services.”

The clerk busies herself with the screens in front of her. “Weally? Thwat’s nice. And thwhere are you twaveling today, offither?”

Flynn thinks,
Is a world of cascading trouble a destination?
Damn it.

He forgot to ask Koko where she wanted to go, and he knows in order to secure a rental off
Alaungpaya
he must declare a final point of destination. But, knowing Koko’s skills, she can probably hack the strat-sled’s onboard navigational systems and reprogram a flight plan once she’s clear, so Flynn blurts out the first vessel that pops into his head. A nearby entertainment ark that has been tracking the same orbit as
Alaungpaya
for the last year and a half—a barge known as
Desalus 5
.

“Oooh,” the clerk croons. “Thwat sounds funny-fun. A whimsy wetirement pwesent, thwen? Pwenty of high-happy over on Dethalus, wight-wight. My girlfwiend? She go on holiday thwere wast year. Did her some of thwose cwazy gwoup massages.”

Flynn realizes now why the woman lisps. A waffled tongue piercing.

“To be perfectly honest,” Flynn says, playing things light, “I’d actually like to book the rental for a friend of mine. That’s not a problem is it? What I mean to say is I can’t really use it because I have other plans, but I’d really hate to see it go to waste.”

The clerk leans across the desk and whispers surreptitiously, “Well, your fwiend is not by any chance named Koko, ith she?”

Flynn forces an uneasy laugh. The laugh sounds completely phony, even to him.

“Koko? No. Why?”

The clerk tilts her head. “Well, thome beefy wadies were here a few minutes ago snatching all clever-wike about thomebody named Koko. Kind of thuthpicious, you know? One of thwem, the pwetty wed-haired one? Had thwose things,” the clerk strokes her throat. “Neck extenthions? They’re kind of gwoss, but who’s to thay what’s fwashion? Qwuite wude, they were.”

Flynn nods. “People were rude to me all the time when I was a deputy. I imagine you must get your fair share of rough-tempered boors, what with all the people passing through here day in and day out.” He pauses and drums his fingers on the counter in a nonchalant manner. “So, umm, these women you mentioned, are they still around? The only reason I ask is, even though I’m no longer active in
Alaungpaya
security, I can still put in a priority patch transmission to command and have them checked out.”

The clerk twitches. Flynn can tell by the roaming of her eyes that she discerns a presence, off to his left at eleven o’clock.

“Well, I think I twhee the neck extenthionz one ith up top in the café.”

“The café? Where?”

The clerk points. Flynn snaps out his hand to stop her, but it’s too late.

As Flynn turns, he looks up and marks a harsh-lipped redhead with the neck-extension bands standing motionless a floor above in the café. The redhead is close to the terrace piping overlooking the flight arrival and departure area and, honestly, the clerk is accurate in her assessment. If it weren’t for the neckbands and the somewhat rakish, Jolly Roger bandage over her eye, the redhead is a bit of a knockout.

Flynn quickly surveys the crowd and sees a second fearsome-looking woman with an ocular implant glaring straight at him.

A knockout?

Mmm, not so much.

Heinz immediately checks in with Wire via her ocular.

“Oh, man, did you just see that?”

Wire taps a finger to the side of her temple. “Hell, yeah. Popped out of a restricted doorway looking all kinds of suspicious. Crossed to the rental desk and got chatty with that clerk and she totally pointed you out. That
hombre
down there be throwing out the big vibe.”

“Kind of looks like a security dork.”

“My thinking too.”

“Maybe something went down with Mu?”

“She still hasn’t checked in.”

“What if somebody discovered the fat man?”

“Screw it. Even on a barge as lame as this, they’d mobilize more than one asset if they found that tub of pus. This whole place would be swimming with pork.”

“Try Mu again and keep an eye on him.”

“Roger that,” responds Wire. “Wait! Hang on.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, are we lucky or what?”

“What?”

“There are nail marks on that guy’s neck.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Ah, that’s a negative. Yeah, and if I’m not mistaken that’s, like, a total scorpion hold. I’ve used that hold plenty of times myself. Well, I’ll be damned. It looks like this target of ours has had her nails done recently. Razor claws.”

Heinz’s eyes narrow with the good news.

“Well, hello, Koko…”

After spinning away from the rental counter, Flynn threads and crisscrosses his way through the chockablock crowds of travelers. The fresh nail marks on his neck itch under his panicking flop sweat, and he pats them with the pads of his fingers.

Oh, man. This is so not good.

Not good at all.

Flynn feels miserable. Utterly impotent. An ineffective, wet pile of unmanly mush.
You’ve blown it
, he berates himself.
They’ve seen you and you’ve blown it, and now they’re going to track down and kill Koko.

He should just walk away. Go and find the nearest damn bar. Slam back as many double shots of the best booze he can afford, gobble the rest of his medications, and then stumble up to the Embrace check-in. Go ahead, do it. Do it, you limp-dicked wuss. Fire up an anonymous patch to ASS command and forget all this helping some damsel in distress nonsense.

Damsel in distress? Now, that’s a laugh.

Like Koko can’t handle herself.

But two highly trained operatives in pursuit? This business is about to get a whole lot worse, and innocent civilians are probably going to get hurt.

Shilly-shally, waver, waver.

Go. Stay.

Report it. No.

Report it now, don’t be an idiot.

Flynn’s mouth dries, and his temples pound. But what if he did patch it in and ASS somehow managed to trace the communication back to him before he checked in at Embrace? What then? Probably yank his butt right out of the suicide queue. Then Flynn would have to explain himself and why there’s an eviscerated woman stinking up his personal quarters. Oh boy, he’d definitely miss the Embrace ceremony then for sure. They’d probably frog-march him in chains straight onto a shuttle and whiz him over to a holding brig on a Second Free Zone correctional vessel.

Flynn bleakly pictures the holding brigs in orbiting correctional facilities. In his time as a security deputy, he’s helped lock up a whole host of unsavory miscreants and he knows if he ends up in brig population for even a few hours and the box assortment
du jour
gets wind of the fact he’s a former security deputy, hell—they’ll rip him to pieces. Sure, that would be a means to an end, but it wouldn’t be at all like tripping his brains out through the cloud-bound dawn.

Out of the corner of his eye, Flynn notes that the two bounty agents have given up their sentry positions and are now quickly moving through the café crowds. Both carry heavy-looking rucksacks over their shoulders and are heading for the stairs that lead down to the main arrival and departure area.

Damn, he has to throw them off the scent.

He sees an open vestibule restroom facility is directly across the way. He dashes across and careens inside, his mind racing.

They saw me. They saw me, and now Koko is dead meat.

Goddamn it, Flynn. For once in your pathetic life get real.

You’re dead meat.

And you so suck.

Flynn has to find another way. He has to get back to Koko right now to warn her before she figures something has gone wrong and makes a move. God, they’ve probably seen him entering this bathroom and one of them or maybe both are closing in on him right now. Two trained professional killers? Even with his security background and meager tactical training, he doesn’t stand a chance.

Quickly Flynn considers alternative ways of getting back to Koko, but he realizes, without official ASS credentials, if he takes another roundabout way to the corridor where he left Koko he won’t get very far. This isn’t like bluffing a bunch of maintenance and rigging techs or sneaking up the back ways of
Alaungpaya
. The quickest way back to Koko’s location is exactly the way he entered. Right through the access door and right in plain sight.

With a sucking roar, a steam toilet flushes behind him and Flynn jumps.

Time to go.

Go now. Be a man.

Be a—

Hero?

Koko withdraws from the crack in the access door.

What the hell, Flynn? You decide now is a good time to take a leak?
Koko rises from her
wushu
crouch. She swivels her head, intently scoping the empty corridor in both directions.

She should just take off. Someone could come by at any second and this half-assed plan of Flynn’s to use a strat-sled is totally hosed. Flynn be damned, Koko can find another way off
Alaungpaya
. After all, it’s just a residential orbital—how hard could it possibly be?

Sorry, Flynn
, she thinks.
Thanks a lot and it’s been great and all, but I’m not waiting around for your moody ass to botch this all up. That is, if you haven’t already.

Koko gives her shoulders a shake to prime herself. Her hands reach out, and she’s almost touching the access door bar when Flynn bursts in and pulls the door shut behind him. The door locks, and Flynn’s eyes are wide. His face—bloodless.

“We’ve got company,” he says.

They run.

Like hell.

Kneeling, Wire retrieves a small acetylene cutting tool from her rucksack and uses it on the access door lock. Heinz has her back to Wire to provide cover, and she has her new HK out and concealed under her armpit. A flight security team of three are moving quickly through the crowds toward them, assessing the two women as a credible threat.

“Three on our six,” observes Heinz.

“Oh, c’mon, are you friggin’ kidding me?”

“Negative. How much longer on the lock?”

“Five seconds, tops.”

“No sweat. I’m on it.”

Heinz bends down and snatches one of the pulse grenades from inside her rucksack. With a casual flip of her thumb, she arms the device. Then she slings the grenade across the floor of the arrival and departure area, toward the quickly approaching security detail. The grenade emits a wobbly red light as it winds off its countdown. The security detail rush forward, unsheathing their weapons and taking aim at Heinz’s and Wire’s heads as they traverse the floor. One shouts halt, and another yells for people to get down. A deafening alarm revs to a whoop, and large corrugated doors begin to wrap around and descend, quarantining the entire terminal area.

Screaming people scuttle every which way in an all-out scattershot stampede, and Heinz and Wire move inside the access door just as the pulse grenade releases its deadly payload. The keening alarm squelches silent upon the grenade’s detonation, and almost every single life within a fifty-meter radius of the fiery blast is liquefied.

Inside, Heinz and Wire bounce off the corridor walls as the concussion knocks them to the floor. Both recover quickly and pounce forward, ears ringing. Crawling first, then running.

Guns up and out.

“
What the hell was that?
”

Koko lands a blow between Flynn’s shoulder blades, propelling him forward with a hard shove. “Pulse grenade! Just go! Move!”

They bound down a short staircase and run flat out through a steaming transfer tunnel beneath the central flight deck. Flashing orange caution lights swirl like sabers, and alternating drafts of metallic-smelling heat and frigid air push against them like unseen brutes.

Fifty meters in front of their advance two helmeted flight technicians run, their arms wildly pumping in cartoonish terror. One of the techs looks back and sees Koko and Flynn barreling down the tightening passage. The technician reaches and fumbles for a wall-mounted button that will probably seal off the section and lock them inside. Koko bares her teeth and doesn’t falter. She draws the Sig from her belt, fires two silent bursts past Flynn’s ear, and pulps both technicians hideously against the walls.

“Goddamn it!” Flynn cries.

“Move!”

“You can’t just do that! They’re—God! They’re just doing their jobs!”

“Like I care. How many agents were back there in the terminal area?”

“I think I saw two. One with short hair and the redhead with the neckbands for sure.”

“Oh, for the love of—that redhead again?” Koko spits. “Never mind. Two I can handle.”

“Deck three has the strat-sleds.”

“I’m thinking bigger than that now.”

A warning booms through the air:

“Attention. Emergency sequence initiated. All
Alaungpaya
flight personnel clear all platforms. Security depressurization imminent—one hundred and fifty-five seconds. All personnel heads to secure areas immediately. Repeat. Flight deck emergency sequence initiated and security depressurization imminent—one hundred and fifty seconds—”

An alarm blasts to Koko’s immediate right and her ears pop like they’ve been jabbed with a spoon. Wincing, she jostles Flynn forward, egging him on to move faster.

“How quickly do the outer hangar doors close?” she asks.