III
699 Words
IIII WAS LIVING ON BORROWED everything at this point. I was able to pick up an overdue bounty at the local Interpol office, but that exchange rate was pretty bad. Those funds would last just a few days in this overpriced city. One “fortunate” thing is that the city police had pulled back to just protecting the government facilities, as the finance area had rent-a-cops, as did any manufacturing and the posh neighborhoods. Restaurants and better stores mostly all moved into the ground floor or higher in one of the high-rises, so paid a percentage for their protection. (Like cities within cities, if you think about it.)
That left the wanted criminals hiding out in the rest of the city, scrabbling by with the gangs and the just-too-poor. And like the South Side, it was mostly shoot-or-get-shot. Most of the one-story buildings had been gutted, and the two story jobs and higher were armored up to that second floor.
I did the math on the rewards, and figured out I’d barely break even with the payoff’s I’d have to make to the mob bosses and their lieutenants for information. I had one day to poke around and another day to get out of ‘Cagga - or join one of the street gangs as an enforcer. I’d done some mean and nasty things to keep alive in my time, but sucking up to a bunch of punks just to keep from getting killed would be a new low. I’d rather take my chances in Ole-Mex and their cartels.
One day.
Her trail went to ‘Cagga and she’s probably here already.
One day to find her and - do what, exactly? I didn’t know. Couldn’t be killed. Only long stretches in isolation seemed to have any effect. One day of isolation, even if I had her in my hands now - that’s just a joke.
More like the plan had to be getting a positive ID on her and then re-group with some more resources. But by then she could have moved on.
Sticking my hands in my pockets, I found my meds bottle. It rattled with the few doses I had left. A mental note to see if their free clinics would help a visiting law enforcement type. Maybe, maybe not.
Next to the wanted posters were some floor-to-ceiling bulletproof glass, tinted with reflection on the outside.
I was watching the two-bit hustlers operating right in front of what passed for police in this town.
One redhead caught my eye. Kinda strawberry blond in a faded jeans jacket - too large with rolled up sleeves. The three-card hustlers I could figure out. But she looked like she was handing out money to the little kids. Dimes and quarters.
They’d come up as a rag-tagged bunch, and bring her rocks. She’d put close her hand over their rock and then make a pass - the rock would be gone from her open hand. But then would close her palm and make another pass - and then hand them a coin. All depended on how big a rock they gave her. But I didn’t see any half-dollars go anywhere.
Probably smart. The littlest kids would get rolled for it, and the big kids didn’t deserve it.
Funny how only the smallest could approach her. Adults and teens kept a distance from her, making funny faces if they got too close. I could see how the coins for rocks gimmick could be slight-of-hand, but the perimeter trick was something that simply didn’t make sense. Still, it kept her safe. Giving out money was something only politicians could do with any safety - and then never from the street, never in person.
At last, the mob of kids got their quarters or dimes and moved along. As well as the people who couldn’t get into her perimeter.
Now she stood alone on the sidewalk, a light rain falling. Alone in a crowd of people,
But then she turned toward my glass. From her side she couldn’t see me, but the way she was looking, she seemed to know I was standing there looking at her, looking at me.
I wondered what to do - she might be that girl I was looking for. Matched the description.
As I moved toward the door, some sidewalk people moved in between us. And by the time I was through their security and outside, she had vanished.
- Writer
