Mysterious Cairo (42 page)

Only one crew could be so devious. Angie, with her heart and soul in Cairo, couldn't see it. I did, and I knew they had to be only one place — the top.

Heading towards the old Republic Palace, I turned south on Nubar. I continued through the square into the "better" residential areas of Cairo. It being night, I had to avoid several patrols and I even got to watch a flaming battle between a couple of pulp bozos. I hoped they'd help me shake any tail I might have picked up.

I moved east for a little and then back north. I was within sight of the Citadel when I reached my destination. It was a large mansion, of western design — which suggested transformation or post-invasion building—and it was surrounded by walls and lights.

The Burban Estate.

The Lion's Den.

Spending a little time going over security, I was not surprised to see high-tech cameras of a disturbingly familiar design hooked up where guards had once stood. The fence itself was undoubtedly dry—too much trouble fighting the Cairo reality — but the camera could be done with a little reality manipulation.

These guys were that tough.

But they couldn't be everywhere.

The gate was covered, and so was the delivery entrance. But I'm sure my good buddy, the disappearing Max, had more entrances to his lair. It took me over three hours and some "extra effort," but I found a small tunnel under the Cairo sewer. Not the most pleasant of ways in, but safer than any others.

Sliding through the bars of the sewer, I plodded through the liquid goo. I didn't bother holding a handkerchief over my nose — I've been in worse places. I did draw my gun, though.

I had just passed one of a number of alcoves, when I spotted him. There was a man, lying on his back in the muck, breathing shallowly. I pointed my gun down the passage, in case this was a trap, and moved forward. There was no way to move quietly, but it didn't matter. If anybody was there, I was dead.

As I approached the figure, a grim smile tugged at my lips. So, there is justice after all.

"Hello, Den, old boy."

It was my pal "Iniquity" Abhibe lying there in the slime. He was still conscious, but he'd been shot and stabbed I don't know how many times. Despite my grim sense of irony, I shuddered to think what he'd gone through.

His hand lifted out of the muck, holding something that looked like a gun. He was so hurt he couldn't even point it at me. I slapped it aside. Splash.

"So, Den, no welcome from your old friend Jack?"

He glared at me and coughed. Blood. I dragged him to a drier spot and propped up his head.

"Why," he croaked. It wasn't a question.

"Why not? You must know you're dying. I'm one of 'the good guys.' I'll make you comfortable.

A pause, then, "You've gotta get those bastards, Reynolds."

Yeah. As if I plod through sewers for the fun of it. "Really, why? What'd they do?"

There was some life in the old boy yet. He spat at me, but the blood-and-saliva mix fell short. "Not for me, then, but for the girl. She's still there."

Ah, Jennie. Another fond memory. I shook my head. Sure,
I
knew I was going anyway, but maybe I could get something out of the bastard anyway. "You mean the dame that crowned me with my last Scotch bottle. Uh-uh!"

He really got animated then, saying a few curses I hadn't even heard, "Very well, then; for yourself! They know what she told you, just as I know, now! They're coming for you, anyway." Then the light finally dawned. He finally saw my condition and figured out why I was here, "ah, they already tried!" A cruel smile played across his lips.

"Yeah."

The smile vanished in a fit of coughing. Five, maybe ten minutes, tops. He knew it, I knew it. The question was, did he want me or them worse?

An easy answer. "After our 'meeting,' I went back. Burban was ... back," he shuddered, but I don't think it was his wounds, "their leader was with him. He said I 'failed him.' He ordered me killed."

Den looked sad and puzzled. Two expressions I hadn't expected from this multiple murderer and gangleader. He continued, "They're so
different,
Jack. So ... cold. Except their leader. He's ..." More coughing. I reached out, but he waved me off. "Anyway, I broke for it. I took a few with me, and lost the rest in the catacombs below the mansion. I got out here, somehow. I was so frantic, I missed the —
uhhhn!"

A spasm of pain racked him. He didn't have long. With a fierce strength, he pulled my arm until my face was inches away, "get them, Jack. Don't let them have

//

He was gone.

"Don't let them have"what?
I thought
Burban's empire?
I wasn't sure if I cared.
The super-growth serum?
Again, it was meaningless to me. I looked at Abhibe's dead stare as if the answer was there.

Nothing but death.

Rummaging through his clothes, I found a little cash, a set of keys—with door labels! Bless your failing memory, Den! — and, not at all to my surprise, a necklace.

It was the same one Jennie wore.
That
was why Den was so concerned. My faith — or lack thereof — in human nature remained intact.

I started walking again, and then remembered. Searching the filth, I found Den's ray gun. I wasn't sure what it did, but it looked pretty simple. Point and pull the trigger.

I thought about testing it, but there was a meter on the handle; the bar was over three-quarters down.

Hurrying now, I sped down the passage. If Den had laid here long, it meant that the new owners of the mansion hadn't been told of the passage. That meant Burban wasn't cooperating. Maybe he'd be another unlikely alley.

I turned right, left, right, and then a long straight away. The lights were getting dimmer — I thought it was funny that the sewer was lit better than the street above — so I figured I was nearing the entrance to the Burban "catacombs."

I'm not sure how I managed it, but I think it was seeing the blood-stained rag near the ladder. My foot slipped, my ankle twisted, and I threw myself back just as these long metal spikes came through the floor.

Damn! I should have gotten Den's hint—some of his wounds weren't caused by 'stars or knives or bullets. He'd careened down the ladder and landed right on the pressure plate. I wasn't sure if it was weird science or just devious tech, but it didn't matter. I got up out of the filth and edge around to the ladder.

I climbed up the ladder
very
carefully.

•k -k -k The sewer ceiling opened with a key from Den's ring into what appeared to be an oversized barrel. There was another latch on the inside, but this one could be opened from here. I pushed it open as quietly as I could and poked my head out.

I was in some sort of underground storage facility. The "catacombs," as Den called them, was really a giant underground room stacked with boxes and bags of supplies and other things. I was tempted to root around for a little bit, but I knew that would just be trouble. Den had lost his pursuers here; they might still be looking.

Still, finding a way out would be trouble. It looked like this place had been arranged in an intentionally confusing manner, in case somebody needed to do just what Abhibe had done. Except he forgot the last bit. I could spend hours in this place, and I just didn't have the time.

But then again, I didn't have much choice.

Climbing out of the barrel and ignoring the stiffness in my limbs, I made my best guess at which way was out and took off in the other direction. I don't know if my paranoia was warranted, because I hadn't gone ten steps when —

"Welcome, Mr. Reynolds. So nice of you to join us!"

Spotlights came on. Bolts were drawn back. Goons stepped out of the darkness and figures lurked within it. At the top of one of the piles of goods, a light reflected off a glass shield. Squinting, I looked up.

On top of a platform about twenty feet up stood a man in a business suit. He was old, maybe sixty, but he had the well-fed expression of a wolf leader. He was surrounded by a glass cube, which I could only surmise was bulletproof. It looked like there was a door out of the cube on the other side.

He was obviously oriental.

Beside him in the cube sat a man in a wheelchair. Remarkably, they shared something in bearing with each other. The standing man was a wolf-leader, while the man in the chair
had
been. Now, his face hung slack-jawed and empty, his fangs useless.

"You have found, I believe, what you were looking for?" The oriental gestured at the wheelchair. "Perhaps your client will pay you now?"

What?

From out of the darkness to one side, Jennie was dragged forward. She was struggling, but the gag on her mouth kept her from yelling. She looked scared and angry. She was tossed at me.

Hey, I'm a gentleman; I caught her.

"What does he mean?" I tore the gag from her mouth.

"Tha ... that's Max!" She gagged. Her arms were tied too, so I went to work with my knife.

"Yes," the voice from above crowed, "Maxwell Burban; ganglord, smuggler, would-be magnate," he grinned and then sneered, "and living vegetable!"

I had nothing to say to that, so I let him talk. The Nile infection had caught him, too. I needed time for a plan.

"But you, Jack Reynolds, Nile Detective, have it all figured out. Can you not enlighten us all with your knowledge?" he taunted. His men fidgeted, wondering what their leader was up to. I glanced around. Those that bore the stamp of the Nile Empire were comfortable, but I could see Asian men and women glancing up towards the roof. They were worried. Why didn't he just finish it, they were thinking.

"You were the one Jennifer Burban singled out . why? Surely for your doggedness, your brilliance, your —"

"Hey, jerk," I yelled, "your sarcasm's as lame as your grip on reality!"

He looked puzzled for a moment and then laughed. The oriental businessman, cackling like a wild fiend. If I was right, my work was going to be easy.

If I was wrong, I was dead.

"Of course, of course; I should thank you, really. Because of you, I have been able to eliminate one of the few enterprises that do not bow to me. Because of you, I can now rid myself of this ." and he gestured disgustedly at Jennie. Her hands were free now, but stayed rigid at her sides, " ...
woman.
But, because of
me,
I can rule Cairo's underworld and, soon, Cairo itself."

"Yeah, buddy, but who are you?" It was working out. I grabbed Jennie's hand and pulled her behind me, as if to protect her.

He looked triumphant and he chortled, "I? I was but a mere cog in the designs of my High Lord, but now," and his face glared evilly at me, "I am the ruler of all." More maniacal laughter. He was losing it.

Had
lost it, if I was right.

"And how's that,
my lord?"
I put as much sarcasm in my voice as I could. The Nile guys stepped forward, within ten feet at the most. They wanted to beat me for that.

I held my breath, passing Den's keys to Jennie. I don't know if she got the idea, but it was her only chance.

"I have done what even the
great
Maxwell Burban could
not
do." He ignored my sarcasm; I was a sounding board for his madness. "I came originally to bargain for the Ultragrowth serum. When I was informed it was not for sale, I was ordered to take it. Burban, it was revealed, did not even have it then! He had misled us!" He was ranting, gesticulating in a familiar fashion at the vegetable in the wheelchair.

Then he crouched, as if whispering into Burban's ear. But I could hear him, "He had no serum! He had only a scientist; as much a vegetable as Burban is now.
Or so he said ..."

I heard a gasp behind me. Jennie was thinking what I was thinking, "So then what did you do,
my lord?"

"I?" He stood again, a look of pleasure on his feral face. His eyes widened as far as they were able and he put his hands to his breast. "I? I did what no Nippon — yes, I dare say it,
Nippon!"
He shot glares into the shadows, "dared to do! I
went
to Terra! I
found
the scientist! I
forced
him to make the serum!"

Disgust clouded his features yet again, "But I need
this,
to go." Burban again,
"its
handprint is all that will open the lock to its own 'private' dimthread." He paused, more evil seeping into his manner. "Fortunately, it bragged about this fact
before
I decided to remove its consciousness."

"So you got the serum, so what does that have to do with us?" Magnanimously, I included Jennie in my gesture.

"You? Why, nothing at all! You are merely sideshows to the
real
entertainment! Even now, I am putting pressure on the local gangs to join me or die. The independents, like that ridiculous club you come from, will be wiped out or gathered in!
You
are of no importance! You will die, now!"