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When dealing with people he respected, like Dove, or even Lucas, Shadbolt was courteous and polite. However, when dealing with people he had scant respect for he could be rude and foul-mouthed. Especially if they were arguing with him.
"I'm sorry?" He plainly wasn't.
"We're not doing any respraying for the moment. Since Bold muscled in on us, we're limited to doing their dirty laundry." The woman behind the counter and the bullet-proof grille regarded him coldly.
"What are you saying? You've been bought out by a corp? A back-street chop-shop? Bullsh-"
"Sorry, sir."
"I've been to this damn garage in the last week. Now you bloody well get cracking."
The woman considered. Her hand hovered near one button under the counter, then pressed another. A bell rang somewhere behind her.
"We could do it, but there would be a delay. Say, Tuesday? The cost would be two thousand euros."
"You thieving turncoat cumbucket!"
At that moment, a large man, with grease on his overalls, sauntered in from a doorway behind the counter.
"What is it, Liz?"
The woman behind the counter gestured to Shadbolt, then reached for the first button again.
"NO!" said the man, hurriedly, then cleared his throat. "Mr. Shadbolt, we've been taken over by Bold. That's how it is. They're winding us up. God knows what they want from this place, but we're out. I'll do your van now, for old times' sake, but we probably won't be here next time you need a respray. On the house. We've nothing left to lose, anyhow. Bring the van round the back."
Shadbolt grunted, and left. Liz, if that was her name, turned to the man.
"Why cave in? We could've used the tazer on him."
"If you had, I'd have sent your family a wreath. There's nothing in this shop that could stop him, only make him mad. He's a morph, Liz. He'd have rammed the tazer so far up your chuffer your eyes'd glow."
Liz looked alarmed, then subsided.
"What does he do here if he's a morph?"
"He's not corp, I know that much. Maybe ex-corp. They don't like their little pets running wild. I gave him a week or two the first time I saw him, but that was over a year ago. Stories get back to me about him. No-one survives nowadays by being known, but he does."
"I still don't see why you had to offer him a freebie."
"Ever hear of Icarus?"
"No."
"He was, er, a king. Yeah. He wanted to visit the sun, so he built these wings out of feathers and stuff. He flew to the sun, but it was too hot and the wings caught fire. Splatto. That man is something like that."
There was a pause.
"I still don't get it. Why give him a free respray?"
"Because, Liz, one day someone will use fireproof feathers."
Out in the street, Shadbolt stalked away from the garage to get a Coke from somewhere. As he turned into an alley, two men followed him in. The first grabbed his shoulder, and the second blocked his escape.
"What you doin'?" the first asked.
"Yeah, pretty boy. Tel it like it is," the second wheezed in his ear.
The first man had a small calibre gun, thrust into Shadbolt's ribs.
"You're a greenie, aincha?"
Shadbolt had borrowed Lucas' old denim jacket while his arm was still in a sling, and the gang badges were plainly visible.
"What you doin'?" the first repeated. "You tel, or I'll do ya."
Shadbolt said nothing.
"You deaf? Hand over yer credit, get the gif?"
Shadbolt said nothing, but adjusted the jacket with his good arm, so the butt of his gun was just visible.
The man pushed his weapon into Shadbolt's forehead, and sneered,
"You lost all yer packets? Try it, pretty boy. Fink yer fast enough?"
Shadbolt smiled.
"I don't need to be."
After a few moments, Shadbolt emerged from the alleyway. He scuttled past a sausage vendor, who was selling food poisoning by the bun. When he had gone, the vendor's last customer dropped his hot-dog into the gutter.
Lieutenant Morris wiped his hands and hurried back to his car.
Ben Wright, 20/06/01
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