Inkers by Alex Rudall Read Free Book Online Page A

holding a long knife. Most were grinning.
    Emily spoke quickly, “Get away from the door! Permission?”
    “Granted!” said Amber, but it came out as a gargled scream as Emily flooded her body with epinephrine and then a massive dose of amphetamines. Amber’s heart spasmed and sped up so quickly it felt like it was about to explode. Amber threw herself away across the taxi as the door slid open and the huge man with the knife reached in. She reached for her gun but he had hold of her ankle and she had to grab the seat with both hands to stay in the car.
    “Face,”said Emily, and the years of training and the four real close up physical fights she had been in in her whole life kicked in, and it was almost as good as ink. She twisted and kicked him in the face with her other foot, breaking his nose and her big toe all at once. He cried out but he didn’t let go, just spat and held on and pulled hard on her ankle. Amber held on to the seat and screamed in anger and pain. It felt like her leg would detach.
    “Let go,” said Emily, and Amber garbled “fuck you,” as she let go and he dragged her out of the car. She hit the ground hard in a cloud of dust but he had released her and then she was on her feet so fast she hardly knew what had happened. He snarled and stabbed viciously towards her with the long knife. She dodged to the side, avoiding the blade by inches, took his wrist, pulled him hard to break his balance and turned the knife up towards him as he fell. It was so sharp it went through his chestplate without resistance. He dropped with a gasp and she danced back, reaching for her gun, registering the six others closing in. Six?
    Emily said brace so quickly that it felt like one of her own thoughts. Amber had time to be aware that it meant something bad, which was no help at all, and then without knowing how she had got there she was on one knee, blood pouring down her face, Emily screaming get up, get up .
    She looked up and became aware that she could no longer feel the right side of her head. She could see some of her blood and hair on the iron bar. The man wielding it looked shocked that she was still conscious. Reinforced brain, friend, she thought abstractedly. He was raising the bar again so she stood up and drew her gun and shot him through the throat. He stumbled back and dropped the bar and she went down to her knees involuntarily, and then there was a great wind and a deafening roar and heat everywhere and loud booming voices echoing from the walls. She fell onto her face as something big and dark descended on the courtyard.
    “Shit,” she mumbled into the dirt and blood.

Hardwick
    The concrete architecture of Walter Sisulu University loomed in the darkness. There were a few electrics and one ancient petrol but otherwise the gravel car park was empty. Hardwick sat in his suit in the sleek opulence of his car, looking out into the night, rubbing occasionally at his lined face with both hands.
    The note said six o'clock; his watch read 17:49.
    Hardwick could see nobody in the area of the car park. There were several sections of concrete piping big enough to stand up in. There was a heap of rubble. He thought he saw a little movement over by one of the university buildings, but it was too dark to be sure, and he had no eye implants to look closer. He checked his watch once more for the route to the library, then rolled his sleeve down so it was completely hidden. The suit, which he had worn to impress the student, now felt like a ridiculous, dangerous choice. Still more dangerous was the vial of ink in the left pocket of his trousers. But it was too late now, unless he backed out; and backing out would mean giving up on the possibility of an incredibly lucrative deal. And he needed the ink in his pocket to test them. There was no other way to be sure.
    If it worked, he wanted it, because it would make him much richer, and because the technology the email and the note had hinted at, if it existed at