“She hasn’t done anything to you.” With the first mad rush already out the door, Eve approached slowly. “She’s not responsible. Why don’t you let her go?”
“Everyone’s done something to me. Everyone’s part of the system.” He yanked, pulling the hapless clerk a little farther through the security port. She was wedged now to the shoulders and turning faintly blue. “Keep back,” he said quietly. “I’ve got nothing to lose and nowhere to go.”
“You’re choking her. Snuff her and you’ve got no shield. Ease up a little. What’s your name?”
“Names don’t count for shit.” But he did loosen his grip enough to have the young clerk wheeze in a desperate breath. “Money’s what matters. I walk out with a bag of credits, nobody gets hurt. Hell, they’ll just make more.”
“It doesn’t work th
at way.” Cautious, Eve took another three steps, keeping her eyes on his. “You know you’re not going to get out of here. By now the street’s blocked, the security units are deployed. Jesus, pal, the area’s lousy with cops any time of the day or night. You could’ve picked better than this.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Peabody slide through the rear access and take up her position. Neither of them could risk firing while he had the clerk and the explosive in his hands.
“If you drop that thing, even sweat too much, it could blow. Then everybody dies here.”
“Then we’ll all die here. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Let the clerk go. She’s a civilian. She’s just trying to make a living.”
“So was I.”
She saw it in his eyes just an instant too late. The utter despair. In a blink he tossed the hand-held boomer high and right. Eve’s life flashed obscenely before her eyes as she sprinted forward and made the dive. She missed by a fingertip.
Even as she braced for the insult of the blast, the crudely made ball rolled into a corner, bobbled, then settled quietly.
“Dud.” The would-be thief let out a weak laugh. “Doesn’t it just figure?” Then, as Eve popped to her feet, he charged.
She didn’t have time to aim, much less fire her weapon. He hit her like a battering ram, driving her back hard into one of the self-service counters. The explosion came now, inside her head as her hip slammed painfully into the edge. Sheer luck had her holding onto her weapon as stars burst in her head. She hoped the crack she heard was the cheap laminate giving and not bone.
He had her gripped in a pathetically loverlike embrace that was surprisingly effective. It blocked her weapon and pinned against the counter, so she was forced to shift her body weight rather than pivot.
They hit the floor, and this time she was unlucky enough to land first so that his thin, panic-fueled body dropped heavily on hers. Her elbow cracked on the tile, her knee jarred and twisted viciously. With more enthusiasm than finesse, she rammed the side of her weapon against his temple.
The move proved to be as effective as a stun. His eyes rolled up white before she shoved him aside and got to her knees.
Panting, fighting back the nausea that was a result of taking some bony part of his body in the stomach, she blew the hair out of her eyes. Peabody was also on her knees, the boomer in one hand, her weapon in the other.
“I couldn’t get a clear shot. I went for the boomer first, thought you could take him.”
“Fine, that’s just dandy.” She hurt everywhere, and now her pulse began to hammer at the sight of her aide clutching a bomb. “Don’t move.”
“Not moving. Barely breathing.”
“I’ll call the goddamn bomb disposal unit. Get a safe box in here now.”
“I was just about—” Peabody broke off, went pale as death. “Oh hell, Dallas. It’s heating up.”
“Dump it. Dump it now! Take cover.” Swiping out one handed, Eve dragged the unconscious man with her behind the counter, draped herself over him, then locked her arms over the back of her head.
The explosion blasted the air, fumed out a fist of heat and had God knew what raining down on her. The auto fire control system whirled into action, spewing sprays of icy water, shrilling out a new alarm, warning employees and customers to vacate the building in a calm and orderly manner.
She sent up a quick thanks to whoever was listening that she felt no bright pain, and that all her body parts appeared to be attached.
Coughing against the thick wash of smoke, she crawled out from behind what was left of the counter. “Peabody. Christ.” She hacked, wiped her stinging eyes, and kept crawling over the wet, now filthy floor. Something hot burned the heel of her hand, made her swear again. “Come on, Peabody. Where the hell are you?”
“Here.” The answer was weak, followed by a fit of throaty coughing. “I’m okay. I think.”
They met on hands and knees through the curtain of smoke and water and eyed each other’s blackened faces. Casually, Eve reached out and rapped Peabody several times on the side of the head. “Your hair was on fire,” she said mildly.