Toys

Chapter 15

I could definitely see the humans motoring at full speed up ahead. As if on cue, the cluster of bikes suddenly split apart, peeling off in different directions like campfire sparks scattered by high winds.

They dove down back alleys and even onto narrow walkways, where the maneuverable bikes could evade the roadblocks and stay sheltered from police aircraft. Smart bastards.

“Your muscle tension is extremely high, sir,” observed Elle. “Would you like me to engage ultrasonic massage?”

“Not now, Elle-I’m skunkhunting.”

“Of course, sir,” she replied, and her status light turned from bright yellow to dim green. “Good luck with that.”

I was getting close to the outskirts of the city and the chaotic human settlements where my targets would have a decent chance at disappearing among their kind of filth and vermin. What a terrible outcome that would be for the Agency-and for my own record.

I rammed the joystick forward and the pod went airborne, streaking up at a thirty-degree trajectory to an altitude of approximately one hundred feet. Then it leveled out.

Within seconds I was closing in on the nearest rider. I was doing more than twice his speed, actually. God, I wanted at him.

The punk killer was still on a fairly wide street, but he never had a chance to swerve away. I didn’t give him one. I swooped down between the buildings and came in over him like an eagle snaring a gopher.

The car’s belly grazed his back-just hard enough to flip him.

As I shot on by, the dashboard screen showed him skidding along the pavement, then bouncing wildly off several building fronts. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

At close to two hundred miles per hour, there probably wouldn’t be much left of that one.

The next closest rider was.74 miles away. The on-screen grid showed a path where I could stay hidden between buildings until I intercepted him.

I dropped the sports-pod back down onto the street and peeled out on a stretch of smooth concrete pavement.

Seconds later, I whipped around a tight corner in front of him-then skidded broadside to cut him off.

But he was good with a bike. I’ll give him that much credit. He braked and laid the motorcycle down on its side, crouching on top and riding it like a sled.

At the last second, the rider leaped clear and tumbled away with the skill of a gymnast. The bike was still hurtling toward me, bouncing and throwing off sparks.

It slammed into my car hard enough to completely demolish the passenger side and send me violently off course.

Bright red warning lights flashed on the dashboard, and the shrill beep of an alarm sounded.

“We’re under attack, sir!” the interactive pilot announced.

Sometimes artificial intelligence doesn’t quite live up to its name.