Only Forward. Michael Marshall Smith
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Название: Only Forward

Автор: Michael Marshall Smith

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Классическая проза

Серия:

isbn: 9780007325368

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ that I may be a little late checking in: I’m going to a gang war.’

      ‘Oh wow. Well, have a good time. I’ll let her know.’

      I looked for the Furt, but couldn’t see any sign of it in all the mess. The food had all disappeared – it’s set to do that, an hour after cooking – but there was furniture, books, all kinds of crap all over the place, and the Furt is a small weapon. My apartment is equipped with a Search function: you have a little unit into which you type what you’re looking for, and it electronically searches the place and tells you where it is. Unfortunately I’ve lost the unit, so I’m pretty well fucked. Where I was going one little Furt wasn’t going to make much of a difference, so I forgot about it and ran for the mono instead.

      I told you things would start happening.

      Two of Ji’s bodyguards met me at Fuck Station Zero, dressed in formal evening wear with black tie. They were very polite and deferential. Being a personal friend of a ganglord is kind of cool.

      We walked quickly to BarJi, a hulk on either side of me. The street life got out of the way very rapidly when they saw us coming. One of the things you learn quickly in Red is that if you see men dressed mainly in black heading down the street you get the hell out of the way, before extreme violence breaks out all around you.

      Ji was also in black tie, and seemed calm and collected.

      ‘We’re going to have to be quick,’ he muttered, ‘word is that the fuckers have heard we’re coming.’

      I found this worrying, and voiced my concern.

      ‘So they’re going to be waiting for us?’ I said, wondering if my afternoon might be better spent tidying up the apartment.

      ‘No, so they’re getting the hell out. There’s going to be no one left to kill if we don’t get a fucking move on.’

      In tight formation we strode out of the bar. The armoured cars outside took the signal and wheelspun away, thundering down the street in front of us towards Hu. Ji and I walked down the street behind them, flanked by bodyguards, two more cars rolling along behind us. Like the strippers, the bodyguards in Red are bred specifically for what they do: they’re all over seven feet tall and built to withstand a direct hit by a meteor. In particular they’re selected for the size of their torsos. Ji, of course, had the very best, and the six guards around us all had upper bodies that were about two feet thick. A top bodyguard reckons on being able to shield his owner from about thirty bullets or two small shells. I’m only six feet tall and couldn’t see where the hell we were going, but I felt pretty safe.

      Red is closed to the sky, and it’s always night-time there. The streets were dark but studded on all sides by the neon glare of lights in the Dopaz bars and Fuckshops. The pavements we passed were deserted, but lots of faces peered out at us through the windows. A couple of the bars had hand-made signs saying, ‘Go for it, sir,’ strung outside.

      A derelict staggered into sight from round a corner and I winced in anticipation. Ji has no time for derelicts. It’s not just that they aren’t consumers and so they’re no good to him, it’s mainly that he can’t stand people with no drive. I’ve often thought that Ji would make a pretty fearsome Actioneer, though the Centre would have to massively expand its ideas of what were acceptable Things To Be Doing. Sure enough, without breaking his stride Ji squeezed off a shot and the derelict’s head found itself spread along ten feet of wall. There was a small cheer from one of the bars.

      Hu is a small sub-section pretty much at the centre of Red, bordering on the West side of Ji’s territory. It’s one of the oldest parts of Red Neighbourhood, and bad as Red is in general, Hu is worse. Hu is where the really bad things happen. You never see anyone on the streets in Hu, and there are no bars. There’s no commercial interest in Hu, because in Hu everyone stays indoors. Hu is where you go if you’re a serial killer and you want somewhere to slice up your victims in peace. Hu is where you go to worship the devil properly without being bothered by sane people. Hu is the very end of the line. If you’re in Hu you’re either dead, about to be dead, or squatting in a dark abandoned building, chewing on the bodies.

      ‘What’s the interest here, Ji?’ I asked, slightly breathless after five minutes’ solid striding. ‘Hu is no use to you.’

      Ji rolled his head on his shoulders, limbering up. ‘I put the word around last night. No one knew anything about your friend, but I heard a whisper of a new gang holed up in Hu. Maybe they’re your people, maybe not. Either way I don’t want the fuckers near me.’

      Up ahead of us the armoured cars were slowing down. We were nearing the edge of Ji’s territory. The transition zones in Red are the worst. Everybody hates everybody there. Suddenly a shot rang out from a third-floor window on the right and one of the bodyguards twitched, a small red circle appearing on the spotless white of his dress shirt.

      ‘Good work, Fyd,’ said Ji, clapping him on the shoulder. ’You okay?’

      ‘Feeling good, Ji,’ the guard grunted, using a biro to dig the bullet out. He was pretty tough, I decided. One of the armoured cars swivelled and fired: the third floor of the building in question disappeared. We trotted forward to the other car, the guards maintaining a perfect shield around us. The door opened and Ji and I ducked in, followed by three of the guards.

      ‘Lone sniper, sir,’ said the driver, ‘but there’s more activity up ahead.’

      ‘Okay,’ said Ji, settling comfortably into the gunner’s seat. ‘Here’s the plan. We go in there and kill everybody.’

      ‘Works for me,’ the driver grinned, and floored the accelerator.

      Basically it took ten minutes. The four cars screamed into Hu, machine guns sending out a 360° spray of energy bullets and gunners pumping shells into anything that moved, or looked like it might. Shots and shells poured back down at the cars from windows and shop fronts, but you can’t argue with a man like Ji. Shooting at him just makes him more angry.

      As whole floors of buildings exploded around us the hostile fire began to thin out, and the cars concentrated on wasting the men who began appearing in the streets, running like hell away from us. One lunatic jumped onto our car from a second-floor window and tried to fire his rocket launcher through the window. Fyd, who’d finished calmly digging the bullet out of his chest, punched his fist through the one-inch glass and the man’s body flew gracefully into the wall of the building we were screeching past. Most, but not all, of it then fell to the ground.

      ‘Okay,’ said Ji calmly, ‘tell car four to turn around and head back out, in case anyone’s running that direction. Tell one and three to drop back in formation to flank us.’

      The three cars pelted down the street into the heart of Hu, mowing down anything in their way. I would have hated to have been on the other side. To be running through hell on earth, half deafened by the sound of three pursuing armoured cars owned by the most dangerous man in Red, that can’t be much fun. That must be a dismal feeling. Luckily, the feeling would have been of short duration as they were all put out of their misery very quickly.

      ‘Stop,’ said Ji quietly, and the cars halted instantaneously. There was a moment of quiet as Ji cocked his head and listened to whatever jungle instinct it is that men like him have. Around us the streets were empty but for pieces of dead people and blazing rubble, the stonework red with blood and the flickering of burning debris. ‘Okay,’ he said finally, satisfied, ‘let’s go.’

      Fyd dealt out the weapons. He offered me a Crunt Launcher but I patted СКАЧАТЬ