“You need backup?”
“Negative. I’ll wrap these two. You can have a word on your return.”
“Okay. I’ll be down in five, as soon as I’ve had a talk with Foaly. And Juliet, don’t mark them.”
“Understood.”
Juliet switched off the radio and climbed into the rear of the van. She swept a pile of surveillance equipment under a fold-up seat, just in case the two heavies actually managed to incapacitate her. It wasn’t likely, but her brother would have hidden the incriminating equipment just in case. Juliet pulled off her suit jacket and placed a baseball cap backward on her head. She then popped the rear window and clambered out onto the road.
*
Pex and Chips crossed State Street to the suspect van. It certainly looked suspicious, with its blacked-out windows, but the pair were not unduly concerned. Every testosterone-fuelled college freshman had blacked-out windows these days.
“Whatcha think?” Pex asked his partner.
Chips curled his fingers into fists. “I think we don’t bother knocking.”
Pex nodded. This was the plan that they generally went with. Chips would have proceeded to wrench the door from its hinges had not a young lady appeared from around the hood.
“You guys looking for my dad?” said the girl in perfect MTV tones. “People are always, like, looking for him, and he’s never around. Daddy is so not here. And I mean that literally and spiritually.”
Pex and Chips blinked in unison. The blink being universal body language for huh? This girl was stunning, but she might as well have been talking Greek for all the comprehension that registered on the security men’s faces. Spiritually had five syllables, for heaven’s sake.
“You own this van?” asked Chips, taking the offensive.
The girl twisted her ponytail. “As much as any of us can, like, own anything. One world, one people, right, man? Ownership is like, you know, an illusion. Maybe we don’t even own our own bodies. We could be, like, the daydreams of some greater spirit.”
Pex cracked. “Do you own the van or not?” he shouted, wrapping thumb and forefinger around the girl’s neck.
The girl nodded. There wasn’t enough air in her windpipe for speech.
“That’s better. Anyone inside?”
A shake of the head this time.
Pex relaxed his grip slightly.
“How many more in the family?”
The girl answered in a whisper, using as little air as possible.
“Seven. Dad, mom, two grandparents, and the triplets; Beau, Mo, and Joe. They went for sushi.”
Pex cheered up considerably. Triplets and grandparents, that didn’t sound like any problem.
“Okay. We wait. Open the door, kid.”
“Sushi?” said Chips. “That’s raw fish. You ever have that, buddy?”
Pex held the girl by the neck while she fiddled with the key.
“Yeah. I bought some in the supermarket once.”
“Was it good?”
“Yeah. I threw it in the deep-fat fryer for ten minutes. Not bad.”
The girl slid back the van door, climbing into the interior. Pex and Chips followed, ducking under the rim. Pex released the girl’s neck momentarily to take the step. That was his mistake. A properly trained private enforcer would never allow an untethered prisoner to lead the way into an unsecured vehicle.
The girl stumbled accidentally, dropping to both knees on the interior’s carpet.
“Sushi,” said Pex. “It’s good with French fries.”
Then the girl’s foot snapped back, catching him in the chest. The hired muscle collapsed gasping onto the floor.
“Oops,” said the girl, straightening. “Accident.”
Chips thought he must be having some kind of waking dream, because there was no way a little pop princess clone could have decked two hundred pounds of muscle and attitude.
“You . . . you just,” he stuttered. “That’s impossible. No way.”
“Way,” said Juliet pirouetting like a ballerina. The jade ring in her ponytail swung around, loaded with centrifugal force. It struck Chips between the eyeballs like a stone from a sling. He staggered backward, landing in a heap on a leatherette sofa.
Behind her Pex’s breath was returning. His eyeballs stopped rolling wildly, focusing on his assailant.
“Hi,” said Juliet, bending over him. “Guess what?”
“What?” said Pex.
“You’re not supposed to deep-fry sushi,” said the girl, lapping the assassin on both temples with the palms of her hands. Unconsciousness was immediate. Mulch emerged from the bathroom, buttoning the bum flap on his tunneling trousers. “What did I miss?” he asked.
*