Subject: story: Predator/Prey
Date: 28 Nov 1994 17:09:28 GMT

	Be forwarned, this is a short shaggy-dog type of story.  I seem 
to have a hard time getting them out of my system.  

				Predator/Prey
					by David S. Goodwin

	He shouldn't have been on the streets.
	Actually, with the people who were searching for him, he shouldn't 
have been anywhere but in a locked room, preferably behind a few inches of 
ceramalloy plating.  But no, he was out in the windy night, shoulders 
hunched into his overcoat and trying to blend into the crowd.  I spotted 
him coming out of his favorite restaraunt onto the streets of Chinatown.

	It wasn't hard to follow him, not when you are as good as I am.  
I'm called Latch by most people, and I am one of the best in the 
business.  Or, I should say, The Business.  There's only one, really.
	Madka Co, my employers, had put me on to Dr. Alec Chessire two 
days ago, right after the lab explosion that killed three of his 
associates.  The net was filled with rumors: Chessire had finally made a 
breakthrough in nerve-enhancement cyberware.  Grey BioLabs was trying to 
cover something up.  Chessire had set the bomb.  Chessire had been the 
target of the bomb.  Nobody really knew, but orders were orders.  Dr. 
Alec Chessire had a high price on him.  And Madka sent in their top 
professional: me.

	Probably Chessire knew someone was following him.  He moved 
through the crowds erratically, pausing to examine the wares of the 
sidewalk vendors while sneaking looks at the pedestrians.  He knew he was 
hunted, alright, and before long I realized that I wasn't the only 
hunter.  
	I checked my Miloko-550 in its holster - a nice piece of 
equipment, complete with light-intensification and electronic 
stabilization - and stepped back into a doorway behind a flickering 
holographic signboard covered in Cantonese.  Half a minute later, I moved.

	My target was the dapper gentleman in the grey trenchcoat who 
casually meandered through the pedestrian traffic.  He was good - he 
moved even as I did, but in an instant I had wrenched his arm around 
behind him and swung him against the wall. He hit with a thud, struggling 
to hit me with his free arm, but with the edge of my left hand I left him 
unconscious on the doorstep.  No doubt the scavengers would relieve him 
of his expensive hardware, and maybe next time he'd think better of 
tracking one of my targets.

	It took me about half an hour to reach the point where I could 
close in on Chessire unnoticed.  He had wandered into the Anarch's Bazaar 
- a huge ranging structure of girders and tarpaulins which had grown up 
in the foundations of a corporate tower that was never built.  I followed 
him past the stalls and partitions, weaving around the piles of 
second-hand merchandise, until finally in an effort to go unnoticed, he 
stepped behind a pile of plastic piping which blocked him from the view 
of passerbys.  I stepped after him, no longer hiding.  The prey was at 
hand; the hunt was ended.

	Dr. Alec Chessire had realized his mistake, and was turning back 
when he saw me.  As the Miloko-550 came into my hand, his eyes widened 
and his shoulders slumped.  He knew who I was, and why I had come.  There 
was only one thing to expect.  I brought the Miloko up to eye level and 
pressed the trigger.

	"Mike on, camera on: NOW.  Good evening, this is Latch Farfield 
reporting for Madka Entertainment and News Corporation.  Tonight I am 
interviewing, live, Dr. Alec Chessire of Grey Biological Laboratories.  
Dr. Chessire, I'd like you answer a few questions for our audience..."

	The taste was sweet.


copyright 1994 by David S. Goodwin                           -|||-
</PRE>

Back to the index for this section

Back to the Tea Bowl