“He must have paid them a lot,” I said.
“Good. Logistical win? We eat away at his funds?”
“That won’t stop him, but might make him more desperate.”
The second car swerved around the first, accelerated and came for us. They were still smart enough not to bother trying to shoot from moving platform to moving target, though I wondered about a directional EMP or some such. Hell, I wondered about missiles. If I could rig a launcher in a car, so could someone else.
Local laws might have hindered them. He likely called them on short notice, after determining we’d arrived. These were pros, but probably didn’t keep missiles around on the off chance some desperate military types hired them. Still, they had four vehicles to my one and several people to our two. Amateurs can be even worse because they’re clumsy and crude.
They still hadn’t shot at us, either. I figured it would be a good idea for me to start those hostilities. They wouldn’t want attention any more than I did, and I’d be better at evading.
“That park you mentioned,” I said.
“Fifteen hundred meters on the right,” she said.
“Noted. Can you climb into the back and get the gun?”
“I can,” she agreed. She sounded a little unsure, but didn’t object.
She climbed past my shoulder, as I tried to gauge pursuit. They were faster, and gaining. The park came up quickly. Sign, signal on the dash . . .
“Turning,” I said. “Get ready to deploy right.”
I swung into the turn, she swung into me, tires protested, I nailed it as we straightened, and braked hard to turn again into a parking area. All three cars turned in after us and the fourth one was visible a ways back. I spun and barreled back as they dodged, and I could see guns now, though they hadn’t fired and didn’t try to wreck. Interesting. Was it possible they weren’t hostile? Except they had guns out.
Then one of them did fire, and perforated a window. Silver yelped. She was just straightening out, and had the shotgun.
I gripped the yoke and drove down an access road that ended in bollards. I leaned into the brakes, unlatched the door, said, “Gun!” and leaned more.
She passed over the gun, I reached a stop, let momentum throw the door open, and tumbled out fast, tucked around the comforting feel of large gauge firepower. I rolled into some brush and confirmed I heard her door, too. Good.
I heard their cars screeching to a stop, the tire compound melting instead of grabbing. That took effort, given the modern materials coming out now.
The park was pretty generic, really. Lots of Earth grass cut short, some stone walls and a couple of cairns. Those were carved from local lava, as was most stone here. There were some walkways through the trees, like the one where I’d slammed to a stop. A couple of pavilions for parties and meetings, a restroom block and a utility shed rounded things out. In the misty distance I saw a children’s digging pit and some kind of climbing toy with slides and things.
I cleared the brush and stood to see several thugs coming toward me, lightly armed with pistols and bars. Sixteen, at a gestaltic take.
I love operating in a society where few people are armed. The psychological effect of a weapon on the rabbits is quite gratifying. Back home, it barely would have caused a raised eyebrow. Here, however . . .
I whipped it out from under my coat and jacked a round. They recognized the threat and scattered. That wasn’t entirely the best outcome, but it did mean, unless they were very professional, their attack wouldn’t be coordinated.
I reviewed where each had run, chose a direction, and took back off into the growth. Two had chosen the footpaths over this way, and I was between those.
One of them heard me and took a shot. That was excellent, because he got nowhere near me. I heard the crackzing! of the round about four meters ahead, saw a very faint but definite muzzle flash, and heard his buddy to my right curse. They were perhaps five meters each way. I fired left first, figuring the one on the receiving end would need a moment to recover. Then I fired at the other. I heard him yelp, so that was a wound.
The other one fired again at the whamf! from my gun. I can’t describe it better than that. A bang, but softened at the edges and lowered forty dB. I’d moved as I shot, so he missed; I fired again and didn’t.
I slid another shell in the breech to conserve the magazine, looped around to the man I thought I’d injured to find him clutching a leg. He tried to stand, I kicked him in the head and kept running.
The woods were my friend, but the goons did have numbers and could set ambushes. I decided to relocate to the service building. I crossed the path, bounded twice in the woods, then out onto the grass and forward through the open.