Mardock Scramble Page 10

  “It’s because of the Internet café we were just in. We must have been picked up by the enemy as we accessed information on Shell. They traced us and sent people right after us.”

  –What do we do?

  “See them off, then return home.” His tone of voice was so composed she could have believed he was talking about buying an umbrella because it was raining.

  –How?

  Balot was already scared. She had premonitions of something terrible and wanted to burst out crying.

  “Take me in your hand.”

  As Balot loosened the choker and gripped it, it turned with a squelch into a black leather glove that fit her right hand—well—like a glove.

  The Oeufcoque-glove informed her in a plain voice,“I want you to calm down. I was developed as an All-Purpose Tool to be the strongest hand-to-hand combat weapon in the world.”

  Balot left the mall and went down a side alley where there were fewer people. The six men drew near, blocking all her escape routes so precisely that you could almost have described them as conscientious.

  Balot used her perception abilities to sense that they were speaking with each other via wireless devices.

  “Three groups of two, is it? Looks like they’re planning for two of them to capture you first. They smell as if they’re going to start out on a definite course of action. The other four are planning to use a car or something to take you away once you’ve been captured.”

  Balot sensed the group of four congregate in one place and get into a car, just as Oeufcoque had said. The two men that were coming toward her now split up, one coming from the direction Balot was walking in and the other creeping up from behind.

  –They’re getting closer and closer.

  “When they come, all you need to do is stick out the hand that you’re holding me with.”

  The gloomy alley was deserted. She wanted to stand still there. But a strange momentum carried Balot’s legs onward. She balled up her hand covered by the glove—Oeufcoque—and soon she approached the corner around which the man lay in wait for her.

  Balot stopped still at the same moment that the man leapt out.

  Flustered, Balot thrust out her right fist, and the next moment a silver rod extended with incredible force. The tip of the rod scored a direct hit on the man’s throat, and he let out a moan—gack.

  In front of the dumbfounded Balot the man collapsed in a twitching heap.

  He was convulsing, his eyes peeled white, and he had started frothing at the mouth.

  “I added a dollop of extra electricity for good measure. He won’t be waking up for a good while.”

  Balot noticed she was now wielding a police baton in her right hand—a turned Oeufcoque.

  The other man was now coming at her from behind.

  He saw his colleague on the ground and started running toward her.

  In a daze Balot stuck her right arm out, but her assailant easily dodged the baton.

  Or rather, it looked as if he had dodged it—but it didn’t let him dodge. Her right hand—Oeufcoque—moved of its own accord, and skillfully thrust the tip of the baton square under the man’s jaw.

  The man fell to his knees. This time, though, the shock was lighter. The man remained conscious and moved his head toward her.

  At that moment the outstretched baton squelched and turned into a pistol.

  The man stared into the muzzle in abject terror. Balot, too, cowered in astonishment.

  Bang—a dry sound—and a shot went off in the man’s face. But it wasn’t a bullet. Rather, a mesh of fine wires. These wrapped around the man’s head and released their electric charge.

  He never stood a chance. Without making a sound the man lost consciousness and toppled over in a faint.

  “Well, then. Let’s get back to the parking lot as soon as we can.”

  Oeufcoque was now just a glove again; the gun had disappeared with a squelch.

  Balot stared at the two men on the ground, dumbfounded.

  Balot ran back to the parking lot in a hurry, but the moment she jumped into her eCar, Oeufcoque spoke. “They’re quick. The rest of our pursuers have already noticed something wrong and are moving.” Oeufcoque, still a glove, sounded as unconcerned as ever.

  –What shall we do? Do we have to finish them off?

  “It’d be best if we could avoid the need for another fight. Let’s leave as quickly as we can. There’s a possibility they may have reinforced the mall exits, but if there’s nothing then let’s just go home.”

  –Do you really think there’s nothing more going to happen? Balot asked folornly as she made the eCar do an emergency start.

  “Well, I hope that nothing more is going to happen—that’d be good.” Oeufcoque’s words were somewhat deflating.

  –I never know whether I can rely on you or not! Balot told him, a little angry.

  “That’s a problem. You’re supposed to be a witness to my usefulness in this case, after all,” Oeufcoque said, genuinely concerned now, and as he did so the car moved toward the mall exit. Then a large van emerged at their flank, and Oeufcoque immediately ordered, “Enemies! Snarc the car and let’s escape!”

  –See, I told you something would happen.

  Balot, who really was angry now, snarced the car as a reflex action. The car sped on—at a speed much higher than its official limit—and, barely sticking to the road, squeezed in front of the van.

  Balot looked back and saw it following immediately behind them. Listening to the clamor of car horns sounding all around in protest, she asked,

  –What do we do now?

  “Let’s shake them off, using your abilities. I’ll give the directions.”

  Oeufcoque turned into a Nav, and she asked him,

  –So I should make the car go full speed ahead?

  “Yes, with your seat belt fastened and watching out for pedestrians.”

  –And I can truly rely on you?

  “Absolutely.”

  Balot pursed her lips and fastened her seat belt. Still looking at the display on the Nav in her hand, she concentrated on the inner workings of the car and snarced its circuits for all she was worth.

  In an instant she grasped the layout of all the cars in her surroundings, the positions of all the pedestrians, and the obstacles—and, like a professional skateboarder, made the car jump through every little gap and opening, pushing swiftly onward.

  –I’ve never driven a car before, Balot informed Oeufcoque (a little late in the day), but Oeufcoque just responded calmly, “There’s a first time for everything.”

  As they pulled out of the East Side and entered the trunk road, two pairs of headlights emerged from behind and roared toward them, accelerating harshly. Their escape route had been read like a book. Without looking at the vans that were growing steadily nearer, Balot measured them, grasped them.

  The window on the passenger side rolled down, and the barrel of a gun emerged from the gap.

  “They’re going to start shooting at us, so dodge. Should be no problem with your abilities.”

  It was strange—because Oeufcoque told her that this was true, she began to believe it herself.

  Balot even knew the movements of the people inside the car. Even going nearly a hundred kilometers an hour, she could clearly grasp the movements of the person in the van putting their finger to the trigger.

  Balot manipulated the whole car, snarcing every mechanism simultaneously.

  The gunshot masked the sound of the car’s harsh breaking. Even as the bullet grazed the hood, the car swung around in a huge arc, moving in the opposite direction.

  She grasped that the vans on either side had sped past and were now frantically trying to stop.

  The car did a half turn, all four tires smoking, and sped off back the way it had come.

  The cars that had been behind Balot were now in front of her, drivers frantically yanking their steering wheels. Balot grasped all their movements, dodged all the vehicles without a scratch, weaved throu
gh the oncoming traffic, and dashed on for a few hundred meters. She noticed that one of the vans behind her had stopped, crashed into one of the oncoming cars.

  The car’s 180-degree turn and sprint were both Oeufcoque’s idea. Balot followed whatever path Oeufcoque indicated and found herself back in the bustling East Side.

  –Oeufcoque, are you a pacifist? An extremist? Which is it?

  “A pacifist, of course.”

  –Would a pacifist make someone speed down a road the wrong way?

  “It was the least risky means of dealing with the state of emergency that we were just in. It’s not as if I’m allowed to turn into a rocket launcher and blow the enemy away.”

  –Could you really turn into something like that?

  “It’s against the laws of the Commonwealth. If I turned into such a thing they’d dispose of me the very next day.”

  –Even if it’s an emergency?

  “It might be an emergency, but the ends don’t always justify the means.”

  Unimpressed, Balot followed Oeufcoque’s directions, weaving freely through the complicated back streets of the city in order to try and shake off the other van. Soon they entered an underground tunnel, passed through a number of intersections, and when they re-emerged above ground near the central district of Mardock City the van was nowhere to be seen—all Balot could see was the night sky of early spring that flowed all around them like fresh black ink.

  “Looks like we’ve managed to lose them completely. The first lot, at least,” Oeufcoque muttered thoughtfully, still giving directions as a Nav.

  –Are you saying there are more?

  Balot curled up anxiously, still gripping the Nav.

  “Here and there I smelled something unusual. A sense of purpose completely without emotion—as if it were merely observing us.”

  Suddenly Balot’s senses noticed that a car was drawing near. It cruised along at the same speed as them about a block behind.

  –There’s a car stuck to our tail—an enemy?

  “No…this smell…”

  At that moment the car that was tailing them abruptly moved into the same lane.

  It maintained its distance a few cars behind, precisely.

  –Oeufcoque?

  “It’s him—I’m sure of it,” Oeufcoque whispered in a subdued, serious voice that she had never heard from him before.

  Before they realized it the car behind had gradually closed in.

  At length Balot turned around and saw the driver with her own eyes and gasped.

  It was the driver from that night—that night she was burned to death in the car, when Shell got into another AirCar, driven by his bodyguard.

  “It’s Dimsdale-Boiled. OctoberCorp’s Scramble 09,” Oeufcoque muttered quietly. As he did so the car behind flashed its headlights.

  –What? He’s asking us to stop?

  Balot’s eyes widened. At that moment, the comm device in her car started blinking.

  “As a fellow Trustee with responsibility for solving this case, I demand my statutory rights to Information Disclosure.” The voice was distinctive and hailed them from the car behind. Balot was startled. Oeufcoque was silent. The voice coming through the comm device continued, “We’ve already made our background checks on that rental car. If you refuse to participate in the Information Disclosure then the public rental car agency will testify as to your cooperative attitude.”

  –What’s he talking about? Why can we hear his voice? What is this person saying?

  “In order to come to a peaceful resolution wherever possible, Trustees in charge of cases will often negotiate with each other, exchanging certain prescribed pieces of information,” Oeufcoque explained. “Refusal to do so counts as a big minus in court.”

  –What are we going to do?

  “Let’s stop the car up here. We’ll just have to have a little chat,” Oeufcoque said, turning back into a glove that covered Balot’s right hand. At length Balot timidly pulled the car over onto the hard shoulder.

  05

  Boiled pulled up two car lengths behind Balot’s car.

  Balot got out of the car, and Boiled emerged at the same time and stood in the shadow of the door.

  They waited in silence as another car went past.

  The giant man, his face inhuman, stared down at Balot, expressionless, and Balot was overcome by a fear that made her legs tremble. It wasn’t so much just a fear of being killed. Rather, it was a fear of being killed without being able to put up any sort of resistance at all. Indeed, that very fear sapped her will to resist, draining all her strength from her body.

  “Don’t worry, Balot. As long as I’m here he won’t do anything lightly,” Oeufcoque said, as if he had read her innermost thoughts.

  At that point Boiled’s eyes moved for the first time. He looked straight at Balot’s right hand.

  “So that’s where you’re hiding, Oeufcoque,” Boiled said, his voice floating across the air. An oppressive, expressionless tone of voice that made Balot feel like she was looking down the barrel of a gun.

  “When did you submit your application to become the Trustee for the opposition?” Oeufcoque asked.

  With cold light glinting in his blue eyes, Boiled replied, “This afternoon. That’s your employer, is it?”

  Boiled jerked his chin slightly toward the girl, unimpressed.

  “She’s the Concerned Party in this case. What’s the disclosure you’re requesting, Boiled?”

  “I want you to revoke the Life Preservation Program,” said Boiled.

  “That’s intimidation. Not a request. As ever, you really think that’s the best way to solve the case?”

  “I’m not here to solve the case. Just suppress it. I want you to tell me what charges you are bringing against Shell-Septinos.”

  “The district attorney’s office will publish that information in due course. Wait for the official announcement,” replied Oeufcoque, calm.

  “I want to know in advance what the procedures will be in the event that the Concerned Party dies or absconds.”

  “We’d still proceed with the prosecution, if that’s what you mean,” declared Oeufcoque, and the cold glint in Boiled’s eyes seemed brighter than ever.

  “Are you frightened?” Boiled’s eyes suddenly moved toward Balot as he spoke.

  Balot’s legs started shaking more violently than before. She did her utmost to keep her composure and return Boiled’s gaze.

  “If you don’t want to die you should withdraw your petition and abrogate your rights as Concerned Party in this case,” Boiled said. Words that struck at the heart of Balot’s frail courage.

  “Don’t listen to him, Balot. The moment you abrogate your rights is the moment no one will be able to protect you anymore.”

  In her breathlessly tense state Balot barely managed to nod; she gripped Oeufcoque tightly in her right hand. Choking back the tears of terror and humiliation:

  –I don’t want to die.

  The feelings were welling up inside her, and she threw the whole lot at Oeufcoque.

  She felt the glove enveloping her right hand getting warmer. Then Boiled’s voice filled the air. “I want to know the date of the provisional hearing and whether the Concerned Party will be appearing in person.”

  “In three days. As for the rest, wait for the official announcement. And don’t even think about a repeat of today’s tactics. We’ll take you to the cleaners in court,” said Oeufcoque.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Boiled’s face twisted slightly. An inhuman smirk. “I’m looking forward to holding you in my grip again, Oeufcoque.”

  Boiled climbed into his car. He closed the door and without further ado slid right by Balot’s car and drove off.

  Balot watched the car move away.

  –You know that person?

  “We used to work together, in the past. Now we’re enemies.” Balot didn’t ask anything else—all her strength had suddenly drained from her—and she climbed into the car.<
br />
  She closed the door and sat there, unable to do anything other than hug her knees close to her body.

  She didn’t want to say anything. Just stay huddled in her shell.

  “Trust me, will you? Just like I trust you,” Oeufcoque said. “By protecting you, I prove my usefulness.”

  –Why me? she asked keenly. Oeufcoque didn’t have an immediate reply.

  Tears started welling up in Balot’s eyes, pouring out on her lap as she held herself tightly.

  Balot stayed there trembling, crying out of fear and regret.

  The car drove on slowly. Not through Balot’s snarc, but on autopilot.

  Cheerful music played on the radio. She was all cried out, and stared out at the night lights of the city with puffy eyes, eyes fixed on her transparent reflection in the window.

  There were still plenty of rules that she had to endure. But the helpless fear was scraping away inside her, shaving off pieces of her will to resist and her feelings of hope.

  Oeufcoque, still a glove, seemed like he was thinking about something, but suddenly said, “You’re not crazy.”

  Balot turned her half-shut eyes toward the glove on her right hand.

  “The way you think and the way you feel—both are completely normal,” Oeufcoque continued. “That’s the reason that I want to serve you and to settle this case.”

  –This case?

  “There’s absolutely no reason why you deserved to die. Yet you were locked in a car and had third-degree burns inflicted on your whole body. We’re going to determine the motives and the aims of the killers and expose them to the world.”

  –My case?

  “That’s right. As the Concerned Party in this case you chose Scramble 09, acquired your technology, and obtained the thing right in front of you: me.”

  Balot tried to think about this but wasn’t very successful. She couldn’t think what she could do. If there was anything that she could contribute, surely it was her newfound abilities?

  She was starting to lose sight of what she was trying to do.

  The roads were congested. The Nav wouldn’t let Balot maneuver like she just had in the car chase. Listening to the radio as she watched couples and parents with children drift by in similar rental cars, eventually she snarced the car.