Daylight Runner Read Free Page B

Five times! And me a cop. We moved out, got an internal apartment, no windows. Haven’t been broken into since. Place isn’t asnice, no natural light or nothin’, but it’s safer , you know what I mean?”
    Sol stared at him over the ice pack. “So, what you’re saying is: if we moved to a worse apartment, if we didn’t have any windows at all, it’d be harder to break into?”
    â€œYou’ve got to have security, son,” Carling told him.
    â€œBy that reckoning, then, if we didn’t have any doors into the apartment either, we’d be completely safe.”
    â€œThat’s being a bit extreme, son.”
    â€œWe had to wait four years to move to a place with a window. We kinda like it.” Sol took the pack away from the back of his neck and looked at it. There was a little bit of blood on the cloth.
    â€œThat bent out of shape?” Carling nodded toward Sol’s broken nose.
    â€œI think it’s just the cartilage,” Sol muttered. “I’ll have my coach look at it tomorrow—he sees these a lot.”
    â€œYou should think about personal protection, then. Pepper spray is good—not that I can officially recommend it, you understand, but it’s not illegal, you know what I mean?”
    Sol was going to point out that he was a pretty handy boxer, but then remembered that he had been floored without getting in a single blow. So much for all his training.
    â€œI think we’re done here, Jim,” Carling said to his partner. Then, looking one last time at Sol: “Stay safe, son.There are some real nut-jobs out there.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    The police officers departed, leaving Sol to survey the bomb site that was his home. First the accident at the crane and now this; it had been a hell of a day. The mess was going to take some clearing up, but it would be best to get it done before his dad got home. Gregor would be a pain in the neck as it was, knowing his son had been attacked. Seeing the apartment wrecked too would mean an evening of ranting about the state of the world. That, Sol could do without.
    He leaned into the tiny galley kitchen, throwing the sodden ice packs into the sink. Heaving a sigh that made his aching head throb, he started straightening up the living room. With the worst of the mess cleared up there, he went into his father’s room and pondered on whether to leave it and let Gregor clean it up himself. Sol shrugged; he would tidy up the big stuff. Bending to right the bedside table, he caught the drawers before they fell out of it and was pushing them closed when something caught his eye. In the bottom drawer was a stack of betting slips from Cooley’s, a ratting den in the Fourth Quadrant.
    Sol sat down on the bed. “Ah, Dad,” he breathed.
    Gregor normally kept his gambling under control; he was always saying you had to keep a firm grip on your vices or they’d grip you. But times had been tight recently,and Sol knew how the hope of a big win could push gamblers over the edge just when they could least afford it. There were a lot of slips here and no way of telling whether they’d been paid off or not. Sol began to wonder if their two recent visitors had been burglars or debt collectors.
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    â€œWhat do you mean we’ve been withdrawn?” Cleo demanded. “We’re the main act!”
    â€œI’m sorry, Cleo, but it’s at the request of the sponsor.” The school principal, Mr. Khaled, held his hands up helplessly. “They had someone at one of your performances recently and found some of your lyrics…inflammatory. They said that we’d either have to drop your band or lose their sponsorship. What could we do?”
    â€œYou could stand up for your students is what you could do—”
    â€œNow, mind your tone, young lady,” he warned. “It’s the students I’m thinking of—all of them. They’ve been promised