Doyle saw the black tunic and dipped into a crowd. Logan stuck with him as the crowd thinned. He was still heading east—toward Arcade.
He'd be hard to track in the vast pleasure center. Logan moved to head him off, but the runner reversed direction and caught a slide. Good. The man was moving downward again. Let him run.
Logan watched Doyle's progress on the Follower, represented by a tiny alarm trail of flashing light dots.
Time to give him another nudge.
At Morningside Heights and Pavilion he picked up Doyle again. The man must know about the maze scanners, Logan thought; the dispatcher was correct in this. Doyle had passed up a dozen chances to go underground. He was swinging east again making another bid for Arcade.
Logan showed himself in the crowd-surge. There's nothing to equal the flash of a black tunic to instill panic in a runner. And panic would kill him. Panic and a homer. Logan moved up a level, to place himself between the runner and Arcade.
Doyle didn't panic.
He was smart. This was no frightened psychotic who'd come unhinged the moment his hand blacked.
He'd dodged and shifted like a chess player, calculating each move. He stayed in crowds; he didn't let himself get locked in on a single level, but stayed close to the main lifts which offered him mobility.
Logan felt a reluctant admiration for this man. Doyle could have made a fine DS operative. He had the instincts and grace of a hunter. He seemed aware of the DS limitations and exploited the knowledge.
Enough of this, Logan warned himself. Let's get on with the job. Fill up with coldness and hate. Build the image of a jackal, a warped coward running from justice. Weak, spineless, selfish. Living beyond his time.
Chase, capture and kill.
Logan watched the Follower as one of the tiny light dots neared his position. Doyle should come out of the lift—now.
The man stepped into view.
Logan brought up the Gun. He caught a white, shocked face in the sights. It would be an easy shot, a clean kill. In that moment Doyle saw his danger. He tried to back into the lift.
Logan had him. Before Doyle could take cover the heat-sensing element in the homer would seek him out and destroy him. Logan's finger curled on the trigger. He hesitated.
That brief hesitation cost him the shot. Doyle was in the lift, headed down.
Logan swore tensely. What had gone wrong? Why hadn't he Gunned the man?
On the scope he watched the dot descend two levels and head south. Once again Logan moved to cut the runner off. He dropped three levels, circled to the foot of the slope ramp, waiting. This time he would not miss.
When Doyle appeared he was holding a human shield. A girl, ten or eleven. Struggling in Doyle's arms, she reacted in terror as she saw the DS man.
Logan flipped the chamber to tangler and fired the charge. Doyle flung the girl forward into it. The blast of silver threads enveloped her, clouding over her upper body in a tight webbing. Already Doyle was running again.
A paravane was cruising the area and Logan alerted it. The police would bring the delicate equipment needed to soften and dissolve the threads without harming the girl. Logan put her out of his mind.
The dot was ahead.
The main thoroughfare was thick with citizens. Among them, moving away, was Doyle. No good trying to fire a homer in this press of bodies. Too dangerous. There was always the chance that an onlooker would step in front of the charge and divert its course. To a homer, seeking a normal 98.6( in body temperature, one man was like another. Logan would have to be certain of his shot. The only sure way to take out a runner in a packed crowd was to walk directly up to him, jam the Gun in his stomach and fire. But Doyle was too fast to allow this.
The hunt continued.
Doyle was veering east again. Making another try for Arcade. Logan moved quickly to intercept him,
riding an express belt to the east edge of the concourse. This should do it; Doyle would walk right into his Gun.
But
He'd be hard to track in the vast pleasure center. Logan moved to head him off, but the runner reversed direction and caught a slide. Good. The man was moving downward again. Let him run.
Logan watched Doyle's progress on the Follower, represented by a tiny alarm trail of flashing light dots.
Time to give him another nudge.
At Morningside Heights and Pavilion he picked up Doyle again. The man must know about the maze scanners, Logan thought; the dispatcher was correct in this. Doyle had passed up a dozen chances to go underground. He was swinging east again making another bid for Arcade.
Logan showed himself in the crowd-surge. There's nothing to equal the flash of a black tunic to instill panic in a runner. And panic would kill him. Panic and a homer. Logan moved up a level, to place himself between the runner and Arcade.
Doyle didn't panic.
He was smart. This was no frightened psychotic who'd come unhinged the moment his hand blacked.
He'd dodged and shifted like a chess player, calculating each move. He stayed in crowds; he didn't let himself get locked in on a single level, but stayed close to the main lifts which offered him mobility.
Logan felt a reluctant admiration for this man. Doyle could have made a fine DS operative. He had the instincts and grace of a hunter. He seemed aware of the DS limitations and exploited the knowledge.
Enough of this, Logan warned himself. Let's get on with the job. Fill up with coldness and hate. Build the image of a jackal, a warped coward running from justice. Weak, spineless, selfish. Living beyond his time.
Chase, capture and kill.
Logan watched the Follower as one of the tiny light dots neared his position. Doyle should come out of the lift—now.
The man stepped into view.
Logan brought up the Gun. He caught a white, shocked face in the sights. It would be an easy shot, a clean kill. In that moment Doyle saw his danger. He tried to back into the lift.
Logan had him. Before Doyle could take cover the heat-sensing element in the homer would seek him out and destroy him. Logan's finger curled on the trigger. He hesitated.
That brief hesitation cost him the shot. Doyle was in the lift, headed down.
Logan swore tensely. What had gone wrong? Why hadn't he Gunned the man?
On the scope he watched the dot descend two levels and head south. Once again Logan moved to cut the runner off. He dropped three levels, circled to the foot of the slope ramp, waiting. This time he would not miss.
When Doyle appeared he was holding a human shield. A girl, ten or eleven. Struggling in Doyle's arms, she reacted in terror as she saw the DS man.
Logan flipped the chamber to tangler and fired the charge. Doyle flung the girl forward into it. The blast of silver threads enveloped her, clouding over her upper body in a tight webbing. Already Doyle was running again.
A paravane was cruising the area and Logan alerted it. The police would bring the delicate equipment needed to soften and dissolve the threads without harming the girl. Logan put her out of his mind.
The dot was ahead.
The main thoroughfare was thick with citizens. Among them, moving away, was Doyle. No good trying to fire a homer in this press of bodies. Too dangerous. There was always the chance that an onlooker would step in front of the charge and divert its course. To a homer, seeking a normal 98.6( in body temperature, one man was like another. Logan would have to be certain of his shot. The only sure way to take out a runner in a packed crowd was to walk directly up to him, jam the Gun in his stomach and fire. But Doyle was too fast to allow this.
The hunt continued.
Doyle was veering east again. Making another try for Arcade. Logan moved quickly to intercept him,
riding an express belt to the east edge of the concourse. This should do it; Doyle would walk right into his Gun.
But
Similar Books
The Sister
Max China
Out of the Ashes
Valerie Sherrard
Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic)
Melody S. Monroe
Danny Boy
Malachy McCourt
Dating Trouble (Grover Beach Team Book 5)
Anna Katmore
A Childs War
Richard Ballard
Trail to Shasta (9781101622049)
J. R. Roberts
Monster Baiter (An Obscure Magic Book 6)
Viola Grace
Advantage Disadvantage
Yale Jaffe