They had picked up a tail. Kirby spotted it at the corner of Eagle and Tenth.
“Red Hyundai. Three back and left side,” he said in a casual tone.
“Got it,” Davis replied, glancing out of the corner of his eye into the mirror. He pressed a little more firmly on the gas, edging the Buick out and around an elderly man in a hat driving a gleaming Cadillac.
“I’ll let him know,” Kirby said.
“I’ll lose this monkey.”
“No. You know the rule.”
Kirby flicked out his phone and his thumbs worked like mad assembling a text.
>Klingon in the Gamma Quadrant< he typed. He nibbled the corner of a nail for a moment until the response popped up with a chime.
>Bird of Prey< Kirby replied. This was a hunter that had found them. If it had been one of the big vans used by SWAT he would have already panicked.
>Rendezvous in Sector Seven. Escort ship awaits.<
“There’s an escort waiting for us outside the Walmart in Sector Seven,” Kirby said.
“Brown Ford. Obvious Fed behind the wheel. Bitch drives like he’s straight outta Quantico.”
“Damn,” Kirby said. He sent another text.
>Make for the Romulan border. Dispatching Scorpion craft.<
“Change of plans. Percival has bikers waiting. Cut up through Midtown and lead these assholes straight into Chrome Lord territory.”
Davis chuckled. This would be fun.
They drove for a while, Davis checking occasionally to see if their tails were still present. He muttered something under his breath as they broke to the north on Flagler.
“What?” asked Kirby.
“They switched out. I can’t tell who is back there now unless we get really messy.”
Kirby thought about the contents of the trunk for less than a second. “Keep to the plan. They’re back there and the Chrome Lords can deal with them.”
>Klingon has cloak< he typed.
>Sensors are blind<
Percival wasted no time questioning whether his men had seen what they said they had seen. No courier of his would react without cause.
>Maintain sweeps in stealth mode.<
>Not liking this< Kirby replied. The phone showed a symbol indicating Percival was forming a response for nearly a full minute. At last it chimed and Kirby looked down.
>Like one, that on a lonesome road doth walk in fear and dread, and having once turned round walks on, and turns no more his head; Because he knows, a frightful fiend doth close behind him tread.<
“He’s doing the poetry bullshit again,” Kirby said. Davis spat into the floorboard and wished he was holding a MAC-10.
“When all this is over,” he said, braking and turning them toward the line of leather-clad riders on rumbling iron steeds, “I’m going back to work for folks who actually do the job and don’t spend their days watching science fiction and reading. I miss old school mobsters.”
Elements: contains a line from 18th century poetry
Excerpt taken from “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” – Samuel Coleridge